


short and sweet

by philindas



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/F, F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-19 18:56:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 79
Words: 33,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7373563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/philindas/pseuds/philindas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of my tumblr ask prompts in one singular place- each chapter will have the pairing/rating in the title.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Philinda; G

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted all my ask/short fics in one place, so I decided to collect them here! They'll be short and range in couples/ratings; enjoy!
> 
> First prompt: Phil holding baby!Skye for the first time.

She’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

Melinda was sound asleep, so Phil had wandered back to the nursery, where their daughter was in her own plastic cot, _Skyler Marie Coulson_ written in swirling cursive on the small stock card, her weight and length recorded just below that, and the time of her birth (4:55 pm, February 12th) along the bottom edge of the card. He’s just looking at her through the glass, her thick, dark hair and her mother’s nose, when the nurse who’d been with them throughout the delivery sticks her head out of the nursery door and beckons to him.

“Skye got a completely clean bill of health- the doctor said you can take her home tomorrow afternoon,” the nurse, Wendy, tells him, smiling. “It’s about time for her to wake up- if you want, you can bring her back to Mom yourself.”

Phil physically feels himself pale, and Wendy laughs. “Come on Daddy, I’ll teach you how to hold her.”

Wendy brings him over to Skye’s cot and carefully scoops her up, cradling her to her chest as she turns to Phil. She instructs him on how to hold his arms before gently placing his daughter in them, reminding him to support her head. The moment she’s in his arms, he realizes he never wants to let her go.

She’s small and warm and fragile against his chest; she shifts and he adjusts his arms, mesmerized by the way her eyelashes flutter against his forearm and her eyes blink open, taking in her surroundings. He knew she was perfect the moment he first saw her, but now, holding her, feeling her heartbeat against his, he knows he is absolutely, irrevocably in love. He’d do anything for her, do anything to keep her safe and happy, and would give up everything for her.

With a knowing nod from Wendy, he begins to walk slowly back towards Melinda’s room, shifting between staring at Skye and looking where he’s going. Skye’s just starting to fuss when he reaches his wife’s room, entering quietly, only to find her awake, rubbing sleep from her eyes as she sits up.

“Hey,” he whispers, moving to her side and carefully depositing Skye in her waiting arms, pressing a kiss to the side of her head. “We did pretty good.”

“Yeah, we did,” Melinda replies softly, letting him help her pull her gown down to feed Skye, leaning into him as their daughter eats. “She’s amazing.”

“You’re both amazing,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to the underside of her jaw. “And I love you both so much.”

Melinda simply replies by turning her head and kissing him, her mouth soft and warm against his, releasing a quiet sigh against his lips when they break apart, whispering her next words.

“I love you and her more than I could ever explain.“ 


	2. Philinda; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Phil holding their baby girl for the first time.

He still doesn’t quite believe this is real. He keeps waiting to be woken up from this dream; this dream where he has Melinda and a daughter and the promise of a much fuller life than he ever believed he could have.

But the moment Sophia is placed in his arms, he knows he could never dream up something so perfect.

She’s tiny and warm; she smells like baby powder and he can feel her heartbeat against his forearm. He can feel Melinda looking at him, but he can’t tear his gaze away from his daughter; she’s just starting to wake up, lips parting as she exhaled, eyes blinking open slowly.

“That’s a good look on you,” Skye says softly, smiling from her position on the side of Melinda’s bed, fingers interlocked with her mom’s. Coulson looked up from Sophia, sending her a smile in return. “I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen you look so happy.”

“She’s our little miracle,” he responds, moving back to Melinda’s other side and letting her rest her head on his side, the fingers on her free hand slipping into the loops of his jeans and tugging gently.

“The best miracle.”


	3. Steve/Melinda; T

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Sh…they’re asleep" -stevemelinda

“How did we end up with two daughters who love pink?” Melinda asks, shaking her head fondly as she stands at the foot of the bed and works on folding the laundry, which is currently covered in various pink-hued pieces of tiny little girls’ clothing.

“Because we have absolutely no strength against their puppy dog faces when they ask us for things, and everything they ask us for is pink?” Steve asks, looking up from his sketchpad and giving her a half-grin that made her knees weak.

“They’re both under four years old, it shouldn’t be that hard,” Melinda said, shaking her head softly as she reached for a pair of Ava’s jeans, folding them neatly and placing them in the basket at her feet. She looked up, catching Steve’s pencil on the paper and rolled her eyes, placing her hands on her hips. “Are you drawing me?”

“You’re beautiful,” Steve replies with a shrug, not looking up from the paper as Melinda finished folding, neat rows of pink and white and blue in each other the girls’ baskets. “Can you go make sure the door is locked and the alarm is on? I’m just going to leave these in their room and then we can go to bed.”

Steve nods, setting aside his pad as she lifts the twin baskets, heading out into the hall; she moves to the room next to theirs, opening the door silently and tiptoeing inside. She set the two baskets down near the dresser before moving over to look at her two sleeping daughters.

Ava was curled around her stuffed elephant, thumb in her mouth and dark hair covering her eyes; Melinda tucked it back behind her ear softly, brushing her daughter’s cheek before dropping a kiss there gently, breathing in the four year old’s scent before straightening. When she checked in on Lucy, the barely two year old was sprawled out across the mattress, fair hair tousled and cheeks pink with sleep as she breathed deeply. Melinda didn’t dare disturb her; Lucy was an incredibly light sleeper, and she didn’t have the energy to deal with her youngster daughter tonight.

To be honest, she was hoping to spend some quality time with her husband in bed; Steve had been doing some SHIELD business for the past two weeks, and had been in New York, with Phil and the team.

(Melinda tried not to think about Phil. It was a scab that would never quite heal, but never quite scar. He was a path she’d never had the chance to explore, and while she wouldn’t change the life she had, wouldn’t trade her daughters with Steve for the world, sometimes she wondered what her life would have been like if she’d been on the Bus with Phil instead of leaving SHIELD with Steve after New York. It just made her sad.)

She liked the team, though- Skye was a delight, Jemma was brighter than anyone Melinda had been at the Academy with, and she quite enjoyed talking with Fitz. She remembered Bobbi from some her last days on active duty, and she had known Trip’s grandfather from Peggy’s stories. But SHIELD was no longer her life; Ava and Lucy and Steve were her life now, though some days she did miss the days of action and adventure, when she was elbow-deep in dirty dishes and there were toys all over the living room floor.

She was pulled from her thoughts by hands on her hips; she gasped softly as her back pressed against the wall outside their bedroom, the length of Steve’s body pressed to hers. His mouth covered hers in an instant; her hands slid up his body to wrap around his neck as his gripped her hips, holding her tight against him.

Steve’s mouth moved down the column of her throat and latched onto her collarbone, drawing a slightly-strangled moan from her mouth as her head fell back against the wall with a soft thump.

“Shhh, the girls are asleep,” Steve whispered, pressing kisses in a line up her neck to behind her ear, tugging on the lobe gently with his teeth.

“Then don’t do this in the hallway, you know what your mouth does to me,” Melinda murmured back, eyes half-closed in pleasure as Steve’s hands slid up her sides. “The bedroom is only a few steps away, c'mon cap.”

“I love it when you call me that,” Steve replied, lifting her as her legs wrapped around his waist, her mouth moving to his neck in repayment. “I love you.”

“I know,” she murmured, pulling back and framing his face in her hands, thumbs brushing his cheeks. “I love you too.”

Steve grins in response, leaning forward to capture her mouth with his when they both hear it.

“Mo-mommy!” Lucy hiccups, voice teary, and they both sigh, foreheads pressed together as soon, Ava’s voice joins in with Lucy’s cries.

“Raincheck?” Steve asks, and Melinda nods, sliding down his body gracefully and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “I got Ava, you got Lucy?”

Melinda nods, lacing her fingers through his as they headed for their daughters.


	4. Philinda; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> philinda and "I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified."

Whenever he finishes carving, there’s always this blend of exhaustion and exhilaration coursing through him that makes sleeping impossible; it lasts through cleaning up the wall and restoring the pale beige plaster, it lasts through the shower he needs to take to remove the dust from his hair, and it lasts through sorting through the pictures Melinda took.

There’s something different tonight though; when he returns from a quick shower, the photos are laid out, but Melinda is nowhere to be seen. He runs a hand through his drying hair and sighs; he files away the pictures and heads for Melinda’s room, padding quietly through the Playground.

He knocks but there’s no answer; he turns the knob and finds it unlocked- just as he enters Melinda comes out of the bathroom, dressed in pajama pants on a tank top, her hair twisted up in a messy ponytail. “What do you want, Phil?”

“You left early.”

“I’m tired. It’s nearly two in the morning. I have training with Skye at six,” she replies, though she doesn’t look at him as she pulls back the dark navy covers of her bed, tugging at the cream sheet under her pilow. Phil takes a step closer, fingers brushing the blanket at the end of the bed.

“That’s never impacted things before,” Phi says carefully in response, and Melinda tenses, shoulders tightening as she avoids his eyes. “May-”

“Can I just go to sleep? Please?” she interrupts him, meeting his gaze briefly before flicking her eyes back to where her hands were smoothing out the covers.

“Why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?” Phil asked, rounding the bed and ending up less than a foot away with her. “Please, Melinda.”

“I think I’ve finally realized I’m in love with you, and honestly it terrifies me,” Melinda finally says in a rush, eyes still on her fingers. Phil blinks, thinks over her words, and then steps forward; he cups her cheek in his palm, thumb brushing her lower lip gently.

“Nothing scares you,” he replies softly, which causes her lips to quirk upwards briefly.

“First time for everything,” she whispers back, hand coming up to cover his, thumb brushing the backs of his fingers lightly.

“I can’t offer-”

“It doesn’t matter, Phil,” she cuts him off, finding his free hand with hers and twining her fingers with his, stepping closer and closing the distance between them. “All I want is you.”

“I think we can work something out,” he replies, thumb brushing her cheekbone. “And for the record, I love you too.”

Her smile warms him down to his toes.


	5. Steve/Maria; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Hey, I’m with you, okay? Always."- Steve/Maria

Steve finds her. She knew he would.

“Hey,” he says softly, touching her shoulder before he stands next to her, admiring the view from the top of Stark Tower, even though he knows it well. “Everything okay?”

She shrugs, fingers brushing the rim of her glass, perched on the railing. Tonight had been the first night everyone had come together since Phil and Melinda had brought SHIELD out of the dark and everyone had learned Phil was alive in the first place three months previously. It had been rocky, and Tony had thrown something equivalent to a temper tantrum for adults, but things were smooth now. For the most part.

“Phil’s worried,” she says after a beat, gaze on the surface of her drink.

“Phil’s always worried,” Steve replies, turning slightly to face her. “What’s he worried about now?”

“Me dating you,” she replies after a slight hesitation, shifting her hair off her shoulder. “He’s looked out for me since we were at the Academy. He still does it, even now. I think it’s amplifying the closer Melinda’s due date gets.”

Steve’s lips curl into a brief smile before he steps forward, hand covering hers on the railing.

“I’m with you,” he murmurs, letting his lips touch her shoulder briefly. “Okay? Always. I’m not going anywhere.”

Maria smiles, leaning into his touch; she turns her cheek to press against his shoulder, inhaling deeply. “I know. I just like hearing it.”


	6. Philinda; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Don’t you dare throw that snowba-, goddammit!“ + Philinda

The mission is boring.

They’re holed up in some cabin in the middle of nowhere, it’s snowing, and he will not admit to the fact that he can’t get the fire lit. Melinda hadn’t spoken much in the day they’d been there; he doesn’t know if it has to do with the fact that there’s only one full-sized bed, or if the kitchen looks like it came out of the 1950s, or the fact that the shower in Psycho looked more appealing than the one they had.

“Let’s go outside.”

He nearly jumps at Melinda’s voice at his side, smacking his head on the mantle above him and letting out a soft curse as he straightened, glaring at his partner.

“It’s snowing,” he replies hesitantly, and Melinda rolls her eyes. She shoves him aside gently, and after rearranging the timber and kindling, has a small fire going in only a few minutes.

“We’ll be warm once we get inside. C’mon,” she says, reaching for his hand and tugging him with her. He goes without much reluctance, watching her put her hat and gloves on out of the corner of his eye.

He follows her outside; the snow has already risen at least a foot. It’s dense, packing snow- perfect for snowballs or snowmen. Melinda darts off; he can barely see her aside from her outline in the heavily falling snow- he wanders aimlessly for a little while, enjoying the silence.

One minute he’s enjoying the quiet; the next, there’s a snowball smacking into the side of his face. “ _Melinda!_ ”

He hears her laugh as he wipes the snow out of his eyes; when he turns to look at her, she has another snowball in her hand and mischief in her eyes. "Don’t you dare throw that snowba-, goddammit!”

This time the snowball hits him square in the face, and he shivers as the freezing snow slides down inside his jacket and into his shirt. “I’m gonna kill you.”

Melinda laughs as she comes over to him, using her gloves to wipe the snow from his face, framing his face in her hands. “Sorry.”

“No you’re not,” Phil replies, amusement in his tone. “And neither am I.”

Melinda opens her mouth, confusion in her face, when Phil nudges at her legs, sending both of them sprawling, Melinda’s back in the snow, her black hair spilling out of her hat across the blanket of white. Melinda rolled her eyes, wiping the snowflakes from her eyelashes as she blinked up at him.

“Jerk.”

“You like it.”


	7. Tony/Pepper; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you’ve ever had. Of course I’m in."- Tony/Pepper

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Does this look like the face of someone who is kidding you?” Tony questions, and Pepper merely folds her arms over her chest, raising an eyebrow at him. “Okay fine _normally_  yes I’m joking with you but not this time. I am completely serious. 100% serious. Totally serious.”

“You really want to lock Phil and Melinda in a closet until they confess they’re in love with each other?” Pepper asks, and Tony nods, pushing the tablet that contains his plan towards her again. She sighs, picking it up. "This is without a doubt the stupidest plan you’ve ever had.“

“So does that mean you’re in?”

“Of course I’m in,” she replies, and he beams, leaning over to press a kiss to her cheek. She swats at him, laughing affectionately. “I’ll give Phil a call. ‘Set things in motion’, if you will.”

“Have I told you I love you yet today?”

“You just did,” she answers, lips quirking into a smile. “Call Steve. He’ll want to help.”   


	8. Philinda; M

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Philinda + public sex

The club is loud, and crowded, and she may have taken one too many shots of tequila in preparation of moving onto the dance floor.

The op isn’t her favorite; their gun dealer target was a partier and not much else- hence why it was a Wednesday night and she and Phil were undercover at one of the busiest clubs on the West Coast. Fury was paying their tab though, so she wasn’t complaining too loudly.

Some pop song she normally wouldn’t be able to stand is blasting from the DJ’s speakers as she drags Phil onto the dance floor; he’s got on jeans that did wonders to his already-phenomenal ass and she lets her lips curl into a devilish smile as she slips her hands into his back pockets and tugs his body into hers.

“Wanna play a game?” she says directly into his ear; the music is loud, but she knows he hears her at the shiver he gives at her words. He nods and she lets her lips trail over the sensitive skin just below his ear, tongue darting out to touch the shell briefly. “Think you can get me off right here, right now?”

He pulls back; there’s interest in his face but also slight apprehension. “The mission?”

“He’s fucking some girl in the back; we know who he’s selling too- nothing’s going to happen until tomorrow night. We’re done,” she replies, teeth tugging on the lobe of his ear as she reaches down to walk her fingers over his thigh.

“You’re on,” he murmurs in her ear, and then his hands are roaming her body and she’s fighting back the moan building in the back of her throat. His fingers brushed her lower back, slipping under the flimsy top she’d chosen for the night; one hand slid around to the front and with no warning dipped into the tiny scrap of a skirt she had on.

She gasped, squeezing her eyes shut; his fingers shoved aside her lacy scrap of underwear and slid over her clit- she moaned, burying her face in his shoulder as he set to work. They’re not dancing, just pressed up together, but no one on the floor seems to notice; everyone is wrapped up in someone else, and as Melinda blinks, trying to center herself, notices they aren’t the only ones engaged in clandestine activity.

Her thoughts turn fuzzy as Phil slips two fingers inside of her; her teeth sink into his shoulder through the black t-shirt he has on. They’ve been together long enough that he knows exactly how to get her off; he finds her g-spot with almost no effort and her knees buckle; he tightens his hold on her waist, securing her against his chest.

She can feel him, hard against her stomach, and feels her stomach clench; the movement of his fingers slows slightly as his mouth descends to her neck, nipping along her jaw. “You’re so close, Lin; I can feel it.”

She moans into his ear, nuzzling into his neck with her nose as his thumb slicks over her clit, sending shocks through her as her thighs tighten around his hand. “Ph- _il_.”

He captures her mouth with his just as she tips over the edge; he stills the movement of his fingers as she shivers around him, gasping his name against his lips. They stay that way as the song finishes, kissing; she whimpers quietly when he withdraws his hand, sucking them into his mouth as she bites her lip.

“I need you back in our hotel room, naked on the bed, immediately,” he says in her ear as he tugs her against him, his own arousal insistent against her ass as he pushes her towards the exit.

“I could always blow you in the alley,” she teases, letting him blanket himself against her back. Phil snorts against her neck, shaking his head as they make it through the doorway, leaving the hot club for the much cooler two am air of the outdoors.


	9. Jane/Thor; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Marry Me." Jane/Thor

It’s the middle of the night; Thor is curled around Jane’s back in her bed which is barely big enough for the two of them, keeping her warm even though the windows are frosted over it’s so cold. The stars are pinpricks of light against the pitch black backdrop of the sky, and she sighs contentedly when he brushes his fingers lightly down her arm.

“Jane?” he murmurs into the back of her neck; she hums sleepily, pressing back into his chest. “Marry me.”

“Okay,” she whispers, eyes closed and half-asleep. There’s a pause; Thor smiles, waiting. “Wait what?”

She sits up, looking over her shoulder at him; he simply smiles up at her, twining his fingers with hers. “You want to marry me?”

“More than anything,” he answers, the sincerity in his gaze taking her breath away. “I love you, Jane.”

He watches as her face blooms into a brilliant smile, hair falling into her face as she leans down, kissing him fervently as she nods.

“Yes. Yes. Yes,” she murmurs, continuing to kiss him. “Yes I’ll marry you.”

Not much more is said after that.


	10. Philinda; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?” + Philinda

“Is there a reason you’re naked in my bed?”

Melinda May attempts to open her eyes at the male voice located somewhere above her. She really does. It’s just that it’s bright outside and she’s fairly certain a semi-truck had run over her head sometime during the night.

“Your bed?” is all she manages to get out, through the cotton that is her mouth. She was going to murder Maria once she remembered how to walk.

“Yes. My bed. In my room. In my house” are the male voice’s next words, and Melinda frowns.

“Wait. Shit. You’re Maria’s brother,” she says, sitting up quickly and attempting to keep herself covered, wincing at the bright light. “She did not tell me this was your room. Or she did and I was way too drunk to comprehend.”

“So you’re Melinda May,” the tall shadow says, and she can hear the smirk in his voice. “My little sister calls you the tequila shot queen.”

“I believe they defeated me last night, actually. I don’t quite remember how we even got here.”

“Mom picked you up,” he answers, amused. “I’m Phil. Do you need a change of clothes?”

“I need to kick your sister’s ass,” she murmurs, finally getting a good look at Phil’s face as he handed her a shirt and a pair of sweats. _Shit he was hot_.

“Mom’s making breakfast downstairs. I’ll set a place for you,” he said, eyes lingering on her collarbones for a moment before he turned towards the door, giving her a great view of his ass in the jeans he was wearing.

“Oh I’m in trouble,” is all she says once the door is shut.


	11. Philinda; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Philinda - "You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes."

The moment he reaches consciousness, he knows something has gone horribly wrong.

The last memory he has is of the blue mats he’d been falling forwards towards, and then blackness. Except, his face doesn’t feel like his nose is broken or even bruised, and his head is resting on something soft and warm. He opens his eyes slowly, but the light above him is nearly blinding, and he lets out an involuntary groan as he squeezes his eyes shut again.

“Hey, sleeping beauty,” comes a soft, feminine voice, and Phil Coulson realizes in a split second whose lap his head is resting in.

His head was in Melinda May’s lap, and he had never felt more mortified. The best student in his year at the academy- and also the most beautiful and out-of-his-league girl that, of course, he’d had a crush on since Freshman Orientation.

“Tell me I’m dead,” he says, voice slightly hoarse, and feels a pinprick of pride at the laugh she gives.

“Not dead, I’m happy to say,” she says, helping him sit up, hands gentle against his back. "You fainted…straight into my arms. You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes.“

He nearly breaks his neck turning to look at her; her cheeks are pink with amusement, her fingers still touching his wrist. “Are you sure I’m not dead?”

“Pretty sure,” she replies, leaning closer until her breath warmed his ear. “You could always kiss me to find out.”


	12. MaySkye; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> mayskye + things you said at the kitchen table

Skye finds her in the kitchen.

She’s at the table, a mug of what was probably once-hot tea, though from the look of it, it’s long grown cold and untouched. She’s got her back to the doorway, though Skye knows she knows she’s there.

She’d gotten back yesterday, and so far hadn’t had a single moment alone with May. There’d always been other people around, or May was talking with Coulson, or Ward was in the room so May would leave. Skye’s chest aches because something just feels _off_ and she needs to figure out what it is and fix it.

She walks to the table and slides into the seat directly across from May, clearing her throat. “Hey.”

May gives her a smile small in return, but it doesn’t reach her eyes, and she reaches for her mug to fiddle with the handle of it. Skye swallows and knots her fingers together, pressing her forearms into the edge of the table. “I’m sorry.”

That causes May to look up at her, surprise crossing her face before she schools her features back into a blank expression. That hurts Skye more than anything.

“When I was at Afterlife, I thought I was finally somewhere I could call home, and it wasn’t until I came back that I realized I’d already found a home, here, with you,” Skye says, somewhat hesitantly. “I let myself be blinded by what I thought I needed to know about my birth parents, and I got sucked into thinking my powers were the only thing that mattered about me anymore.”

“You found your mother,” May responds quietly after a moment, shrugging one shoulder as she shifts her mug on the table, eyes on her fingers. “It’s what you always wanted.”

“I found the woman who gave birth to me, yes,” Skye answers after a moment, leaning forward slightly. “I found the woman who left a trail of destruction supposedly trying to find me. I found the woman I am biologically related to. But she’s not my mom.”

May’s breath hitches at that, and Skye pushes forward.

“Jiaying hasn’t been keeping me safe for the past year. She hasn’t been training me and teaching me and spending hours with me, correcting things I’ve been doing wrong. She wasn’t the one who told me to get out of that cabin; she doesn’t ask if I liked the last episode of Survivor or make sure there was always stuff to make waffles in the kitchen,” she says, taking a breath and waiting until May looks up at her. “That’s been you. And that sounds a lot like a mom to me.”

“But what about-”

“It wasn’t a good fit,” Skye interrupts her, tentatively reaching a hand out, waiting until May reaches forward, curling her fingers around Skye’s, gripping tightly. “I’d already found my good fit. And I think it’s a pretty great one.”

The smile May gives her is all Skye needs to know she made the right decision.


	13. Philinda; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> philinda + things phil said when melinda was crying

It’s not unheard of for Melinda to occasionally skip their 8am history lecture; she wasn’t a morning person, and when Phil didn’t personally knock on her door to get her up, she tended to oversleep. But then, she doesn’t show up for their next lecture at 11, and then when she misses Hand-to-Hand at 3, he knows something is wrong.

She isn’t in her room when he checks with the spare key she gave him, and he can’t find her in the cafeteria or the library; on a whim, he checks the basement gyms, which almost no one uses anymore, and ends up finding her there.

She’s curled up towards the back, her knees tucked into her chest and her face hidden in her arms. He makes enough noise to let her know he’s there as he heads towards her, heart tight in his chest as he sits next to her, thigh gently touching hers. She looks up up at him, eyes red and cheeks wet, and it’s instinctive for him to wrap his arm around her and pull him into his chest.

She settles against him and her chest heaves as she lets out a soft little sob that breaks his heart. He presses his lips to the top of her head, nose buried in her hair for a moment. “What’s wrong, Melinda?”

“My mother hasn’t reported into her command in four days,” she whispers after a moment, her voice thick in her throat. “They think she’s been captured. They’re not even sure if she’s still alive.”

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just holds her tighter; she grips the collar on his shirt, head tucked underneath his chin as she tries to breathe steadily, but she keeps hiccuping out soft sobs.

“She’s gonna be fine,” he murmurs quietly, fingers carding gently through her dark hair. “This is your mother we’re talking about. Nothing can take her down. She’ll be back before you even know it, and what’s she going to say when she finds out you’ve spent the day crying?”

“She’ll just roll her eyes,” Melinda says, choking out a muffled laugh, rubbing her cheek against his chest. “Tell me that I should have been studying.”

“Everything is going to be just fine,” Phil whispers, turning slightly and cupping her cheek in his hand, tilting her head up so her gaze would meet his. “And if it’s not, I’m not going anywhere. I never will.”

Melinda offers him the smallest smile before she leans forward, her forehead touching his as her eyes slid shut.


	14. Philinda; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> philinda + things you said when we were the happiest we ever were

Melinda is on the back deck, a mug of tea on the railing in front of her as she enjoys the morning sun when she feels the arms around her waist; she leans back into the broad chest behind her with a smile, head fitting perfectly into Phil’s shoulder.

“Morning,” he murmured into her neck, pressing a kiss to the exposed skin as she hummed softly. “How’re my best girls?”

“Awake,” she replied, guiding his hand to where their daughter was pressed up against her left side. “I think she knows it’s almost time.”

She felt her husband smile against her skin as he slid his hand up under the loose shirt she wore, thumb brushing along where the baby’s spine pressed against her skin. “She knows we’re excited to meet her.”

Melinda snorts, leaning further into him. “Considering I’m two days overdue, I think excited is an understatement. What time is it?”

“Quarter to eight. We should leave by eight fifteen so we miss the early morning traffic, your induction is scheduled at nine,” he answers, chin on her shoulder as his arms wrapped tighter around her. “By the end of the day we’ll be parents.”

Melinda turned in his arms to face him, arms wrapping around his neck as she looked up at him, eyes soft. “I love you so much. You know that, right?”

“I know,” he replied, hands settled on her hips as they pressed as close together as the round of her abdomen allowed. “I couldn’t be happier to be starting this adventure with you.”

The smile she gives him is so vibrant, it nearly blinds him.


	15. Philinda; M

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> philinda + desk/table sex

In hindsight, the interrogation room was not the best place for this.

But neither of them are necessarily thinking straight; Melinda’s shirt had been thrown in the corner and Phil’s was undone, hanging from his shoulders. She raked her fingers down his chest, nails catching against his skin as he groaned into her neck; she hiked her leg higher up on his hip, rubbing against him.

She can still feel the anger radiating from the center of her chest, threatening to burst free; she quenches it by placing her mouth on his, moaning at the forward thrust his hips make. The hand not clutching her hip slides down to the zipper of her pants, jerking it down and shoving at the fabric, nearly growling in frustration when it refuses to budge.

Melinda pushes him back slightly and slips the material down her hips; a significant look at him forces him to rush through his belt and the fastening of his trousers- when their mouths meet again, only the thin fabric of his boxers are between them.

He leaves biting kisses along her collarbone as he picks her up; she grips the back of his shoulders as he moves them to the table in the center of room, kicking the chair out of the way as he deposits her onto the cold metal. She cries out when he bites at her jugular, heat searing through the pit of her stomach as he cups her through her bra.

Through silent communication, he loses his boxers and her bra gets tossed aside; he pushes inside her with a low groan, and she gasps against the skin of his throat, teeth sinking into the tendon there.

It’s a game of push and pull; she claws at his back, desperate to have him closer, and he leaves marks all over the skin of her shoulders and breasts, tiny red marks to remind her of this later. She can’t help the noise that leaves her throat; he feels _so good_ inside her and she’s overwhelmed by the heat and the scent and the feel of him.

“ _Harder_ ,” she breathes in his ear, nails digging into the soft skin of his ass, urging him on. With a rough growl he speeds up after lifting her leg higher on his hip, opening her up a little more as his hand smacks against the table, steadying himself. “Right like that, Phil, please, _more_.”

They’re both panting, struggling to breathe as the pleasure threatens to overwhelm them; her fingers slip between them and push roughly at her clit as he pounds into her. She makes it three more thrusts before she falls apart with a shout of his name, teeth sinking into his bicep to muffle the noise. He keeps thrusting through her orgasm before he comes, her name a long, low groan of her name into the skin of her neck.

They catch their breath slowly, clinging to each other; his mouth is soft over hers as he kisses her, and she leans into it, forehead touching his when they part. His blue eyes are still dark, but they’re also soft and open as they look at her. “I’m sorry for keeping things from you. I only did it to keep you safe. You know I trust you with my life.”

She doesn’t speak, just looks at him for a moment before she leans forward, kissing him again. “I know.”


	16. Philinda/Skye; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Philinda - may finding out that coulson was killed in action

The knock on the door is unexpected.

It wasn’t like Trip’s knocks, when he wanted her to come and play. And it wasn’t like Bobbi’s knocks, when she came over to babysit her. And it was nothing like her dad’s playful knocks, when he came home unannounced and wanted to surprise her mom. This knock is solid and strong and scary, and Skye looks up from her homework as her mom carefully dries her hands on the towel and goes to answer the door.

Her mom and dad worked for SHIELD- they’d been partners up until they got married and Skye was born- her mom had gone back into the field briefly when Skye was really little, but she was staying at home now because she was having another baby in two months; Skye had a calendar in her room with the day marked and everything because she was going to be a big sister.

Her dad was still working a lot though- he’d left three days earlier to go somewhere far away, and he’d promised to bring Skye a present back. He couldn’t tell her where he was going, but he’d promised he’d be home in time for her birthday next week- she was turning six and she was _really_ excited because her mom had promised they could have an ice cream cake.

Her mom opens the door and standing there are her Uncle Nick and her Aunt Maria- but they both look sad and it makes Skye’s chest feel funny, especially when her mom puts her face in her hands and her shoulders begin to shake. Skye can’t hear what they’re saying, but her Uncle Nick pulls her mom into a hug and that’s when Skye’s sees the tears and realizes something is Not Right.

“Mommy?” she asks, but her voice is so quiet she doesn’t think her mom hears- but her Aunt Maria comes towards her, kneeling next to the kitchen chair she’s in and taking her hands. Up close Skye can see how red her eyes are, and she feels her lip tremble because she’s never seen her aunt look so sad. “It’s Daddy, isn’t it?”

“I’m really sorry, honey,” her aunt says, and her voice sounds thick and Skye’s eyes fill with tears.

“He promised,” she whispered, tears slipping down her cheeks and falling onto her shirt. “He promised he’d be home for my birthday.”

Her aunt wraps her in a hug and she starts to cry into her shoulder but all she wants is one of her daddy’s hugs and she’s _never going to see him again_ and suddenly she feels like she can’t breathe; her chest feels like it’s burning when suddenly she smells her mom’s perfume and familiar, warm arms are around her as her mom hugs her tightly.

“Baby,” is all she says as she strokes her hair gently, cheek pressed to hers. “It’s going to be alright. We’re going to be alright, Skye.”

“But I want Daddy!” Skye sobs out, fingers clutching her mom’s hair tightly. “I want Daddy _right now_!”

“I need you to be really strong for me, baby,” her mom says, pulling back and cupping Skye’s face in her hands, thumbs brushing away the tears. “You have to be a really strong, big girl for Mommy, can you do that?”

Skye nods after a moment; she can’t stop the tears, but she can be strong like her mom. “You’re not going anywhere, right Mommy?”

“I am not going anywhere, Skye,” her mom said, making a promise without actually saying it. “I need to go talk with your Uncle Nick a little more, okay? Your Aunt Maria is going to stay with you, and Sharon is going to come stay the night with you while I go to work and take care of some things. I will be here when you wake up, though, I absolutely promise, baby.”

Skye just nodded; her mom pressed a kiss to her forehead and then took the hand her Uncle Nick offered her to stand up- she took a second to find her balance, hands pressed to the round ball of her belly before she ran her hand over Skye’s head one more time and followed her Uncle Nick out of the house.

“Bye Mommy,” she whispered, wiping at the tears on her cheeks as the door shut quietly.


	17. Steve/baby!Skye; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve meeting baby!Skye for the first time in my skyesophiasadie verse.

Somehow, Steve is not surprised when Phil answers the door with a baby strapped to his chest.

“Hey, Steve,” Phil says, smiling tiredly at him as he steps aside to let him in, hand on his shoulder. “Glad to finally be home?”

“It is definitely nice to be back on American soil,” Steve answers, shutting the door behind himself. “How’s being a dad treating you?”

“I don’t remember what sleep is,” Phil answers, undoing the straps and taking Skye out, cradling her against him as she whines. “But she’s pretty cute, so we’ll keep her.”

“Clearly she takes after Melinda,” Steve looks up as Maria walks into the room, followed closing by Clint.

“I take offense to that, I’m adorable,” Phil says, laughing softly when Skye makes a noise, raising one tiny fist towards his face. “See, the offspring agrees with me.”

“Keep tellin’ yourself that, Coulson,” Clint says, settling down on the couch and taking a sip of his beer. “Even Natasha can see the kid is a spitting image of your wife. And thank god for that.”

“This is my house. I can kick you out at any time,” Phil replied, raising an eyebrow, just as Melinda and Nat walked in.

“I like him, so he’s staying,” Melinda replied, moving towards Steve and giving him a hug, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “It’s so nice to have you home, Steve.”

“It’s good to be home,” Steve replies as Melinda sits on the arm of the chair Phil’s in, fingers tickling Skye’s belly, smiling down at her daughter. “She really is gorgeous, Melinda.”

“She’s an angel,” Melinda responded, taking her carefully out of Phil’s arms and moving back to Steve. “And it’s about time she properly met Captain America.”

Before he can refuse, Melinda’s moved his arms into position and deposited the squirming infant into his arms; Skye looks up at him with big brown eyes, fingers in her mouth as she smiles up at him, feet kicking.

“He’s a natural,” Maria teases from her place on the couch, looking at him fondly. “She likes you, Steve- she almost always cries when she meets someone new.”

Steve just rolls his eyes, adjusting his grip slightly as he touches Skye’s cheek softly, fingers brushing over the soft brunette hair covering her head. She’s dressed in her pajamas already, soft cotton covered in colorful sheep and tiny pink socks on a feet; it’s kind of the cutest thing he’s ever seen, not that he’ll ever admit it outside of his own head.

Skye just looks up at him, flashing her gums in every smile she gives, kicking her feet excitedly as she makes soft noises, eyes darting all over his face. She squeals happily when he brushes his fingers over the bottom of her foot, his face breaking out into a grin as she reaches saliva-covered fingers up towards his face, cooing happily.

“I think Skye just made a new friend,” he hears Melinda murmur softly, but he’s too enraptured by the little girl in his arms to pay much attention.

He can’t help but laugh, though, when he hears Phil reply with a simple “I told you so.”


	18. Philinda; M

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> philinda + boring sex

It wasn’t that the sex was bad- it could never be bad but it was….. _boring_.

Ever since Skye had been born and she’d been cleared for all…recreational activities, their sex life just hadn’t been the same. Any roughness Phil had ever had with her was absolutely gone; he touched her like he was afraid she might break if he pressed too hard- she’d noticed it while she was pregnant, but she’d brushed it off because she knew he’d just been afraid to hurt their daughter- she understood that.

But it had been six months and she was tired of being responsible for her own orgasms.

“Are you not attracted to me anymore?”

Phil looks up at her like she’s suddenly grown three heads- she stops moving her hips over his, but keeps him inside her as she places her palms on his chest. “I’m sorry?”

“I asked if you’re still attracted to me,” Melinda repeats, swallowing against the thickness in her throat. “I realize things have shifted a little since I had Skye but-”

“Of course I’m still attracted to you, Melinda,” he says, and from the tone of his voice she can tell he thinks she’s crazy, though he’ll never say it in as many words. “We were having sex before you asked.”

“Then why don’t you _touch me_ anymore?” she asked, slightly horrified when she feels the telltale burn of tears at the backs of her eyes. “I understood when I was pregnant- you didn’t want to hurt Skye. But it’s been six months and you still treat me like I’m made out of glass. Don’t you still want me?”

“Melinda-” Phil moved to sit up, unable to have this conversation on his back; he slipped out of her but kept her in his lap, thumbs brushing away the tears she couldn’t keep from falling. “Honey, you know how attractive I find you, nothing about that has changed, and it never will, even when we’re 70 and gray.”

Melinda gave him a skeptical look, well aware that carrying Skye had left silvery stretch marks across her abdomen and that she still hadn’t lost all the baby weight, but Phil’s fingers caught her chin, bringing her gaze back up to his.

“Maybe I have been too careful with you, but it was never anything more than me not wanting to hurt you,” he murmured, leaning forward until his forehead touched hers. “I know things are…different, since having Skye, and I never want to be the reason you’re in pain. I saw your face, that first week after you were cleared and-”

“Phil we hadn’t had sex in over eight weeks and you went a little fast,” she cuts him off, hand covering his on her cheek. “That was almost four months ago, and you’re always careful. But I want _you_ \- not some version of my husband that treats me like I’m fragile. You know I’m not.”

Phil just looks at her for a moment, eyes searching hers before he kisses her, mouth hard over hers. He turns them, moving over her as his hand slides up her torso, cupping her breast in his palm and squeezing, eliciting a sigh from her.

“You want hard, Mrs. Coulson?” he asks, voice in her ear as he mouths at her neck. She lets out a whimper when his teeth sink into her shoulder, fingers gripping his back. “That’s not an answer.”

“ _Yes_ , Phil,” she manages, voice hoarse as she wraps her leg around his hip, moaning as he pushes back inside her, lips leaving kisses all along his neck and jaw. He shifts above her, holding himself up on one hand as the other traces over her body, finding all the places that made her arch against him, allowing him deeper as he increased the pace, leaving her gasping.

She certainly wouldn’t be faking _this_ orgasm.


	19. Philinda; M

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Philinda + wall sex

“You know…there’s a perfectly good bed five feet away from us.”

Melinda swallows a gasp as Phil adjusts her leg higher on his hip, slowing his thrusts as he presses kisses along the edge of her jaw.

“What’s wrong with the wall?” he asks, punctuating the end of his question with a sharp thrust that brushes against her clit, causing her to whimper against his shoulder.

“Didn’t- didn’t say there was anything wrong,” she replies, words catching in her throat as he sucks a mark into the skin above her collarbone.

“We’re here a week,” he murmurs, moving up her neck and tugging her earlobe into his mouth. “Plenty of time to give the bed a proper workout.”

Melinda rolls her eyes, wrapping her arms around his neck and capturing his mouth with hers, letting him lift her up fully, thighs tight around his hips. “Shut up and fuck me, Phil.”

He smiles against her mouth, picking up the pace as Melinda sighed into his kiss, tightening around him as he sped up. Soon after his name is leaving her throat in a soft shout as he pushes her over the edge, her fingers tight in his hair as her teeth sink into his shoulder.

They catch their breath, still pressed together against the wall, foreheads touching.

“That’s quite a way to start our honeymoon,” Melinda murmurs, brushing her nose against his and giving him a soft smile. “At this rate we’ll never leave the hotel room.”

“I was promised you in a bikini, so we’ll be leaving it at some point,” he replies, kissing her lazily as she laughs.

“Come on, Romeo- now it’s time for the bed, my back isn’t like it was twenty years ago.”


	20. Philinda; T

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> philinda + ground sex/naked cuddling

“When I agreed to a picnic, I didn’t realize I was agreeing to having sex on the ground,” Melinda murmured, nose pressed into Phil’s neck as his fingers danced along her spine. He responded with a huffed laugh, lips pressing to her hairline.

“Too many people on base,” is all he replied, and she rolled her eyes.

“You were the one who invited the Avengers to stay,” she said, leaning her head back to look up at him, thumb brushing over his bottom lip. “And then told them they could stay as long as they wanted.”

“You didn’t see Skye’s puppy dog eyes,” he returned, turning slightly so his body was leaning over hers, nose brushing hers lightly. “And I like seeing you without any volume control.”

Melinda let out a laugh, affection clear on her face as she leaned up to kiss him. “Well next time bring a pillow, my back isn’t what it used to be and your daughter enjoys napping on it these days.”

“Mommy says that only with love,” Phil said, leaving a trail of kisses down her torso towards the swell of her abdomen, thumbs brushing along the curve of it. Melinda twined her fingers of her left hand in his hair, her right hand guiding his towards where their daughter was awake and kicking. “But next time I’ll remember the pillow, I promise.”

He gets tugged up for a kiss in response.


	21. Philinda; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> philinda + “i planned out this super romantic proposal and you just ruined it by beating me to whole proposing thing”

The ring feels like lead in his pocket.

Every time she so much as put her hand on his knee he had to fight not to flinch, and he knows she’s starting to notice- he’s just terrified she’s going to feel the small velvet box nestled in his pant pocket and ruin his entire plan. Because he had a plan, one that he’d spent three weeks planning and another two weeks going over with Maria and Clint, making sure it would go smoothly.

They driven into DC; he’d booked them a hotel room with a view of the Capitol Building, they had plans to sight see the city over a long weekend, and no one was supposed to bother them until they returned to work on Tuesday. He had seventy two uninterrupted hours with the woman he was in love with.

He’d decided he wanted to propose near the reflecting pool; he had a whole speech planned out and he’d been practicing in front of a mirror so it would be perfect. He wanted nothing more than for this to go smoothly- to be able to spend the rest of his life with Melinda May giving him the honor of letting him be her husband.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Melinda interrupts his thoughts as her fingers squeeze his, shoulder nudging his gently. “You’ve said about four words since we got out of the cab over twenty minutes ago.”

His cheeks color slightly as he drops his head, scuffing his shoulder against the pavement before he wraps his arm around her, shrugging.

“I just forget how beautiful it is here in the spring,” he replies, thumb brushing against her bicep lightly. They lapse into comfortable silence again, nestled together on the bench overlooking the park Melinda had dragged him to. She adjusts so her head is leaning on his shoulder, he feels her smile at the two young girls that run past them, giggling as they chased each other. His own lips curl into a smile because _one day_ , and his thumb brushes over the outline of the ring box in his pocket.

“We should get married.”

He sits up straighter at her words, turning to look down at her in shock. She sits up with him, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I’m sorry?”

“I think we should get married,” she repeats, shrugging slightly. “We’ve been together for nearly six years, Phil. We live together, we work together, I’ve been in love with you since I was nineteen years old. Why not just make it official?”

Phil just looks at her for a minute, speechless, before he reaches into his pocket silently, pulling out the ring box and handing it to her. She looks at him, confusion and something he can’t quite name in her eyes as she opens the box with a snap, lips parting slightly as she gasped quietly.

“I had a whole speech planned,” he answers, voice slightly hoarse. “Spent the last two weeks practicing it in front of the mirror. Clint said it was pretty good, too.”

“Well I’d still like to hear it,” Melinda replies, the slightest shimmer of tears in her eyes as she smiles up at him. “Even if you already know my answer.”

“I just want to spend the rest of my life with you, Melinda,” Phil says, fingers twining with hers as he took the ring box back. “I love you. I’ve loved you since we were teenagers, and I will love you until the day I stop breathing. Please, allow me the joy of being your husband when that day happens.”

Melinda doesn’t try to stop the tears on her cheeks as she nods, letting him slip the ring onto her finger- it’s a single diamond surrounded by small chips of jade, inlaid in silver; he’d found it when they’d been on a vacation with her mother in China, and he’d fallen in love with it. It fit beautifully, and the sight of it resting on her finger was better than anything he could have ever imagined.

“I love you, Phil Coulson,” she says, cupping his face in her hands, thumbs brushing his cheekbones. “And I would be honored to call myself your wife.”

He can taste the joy in the kiss as her lips touch his, and he’s overwhelmed by the realization that he’s going to have this for the rest of his life. He kisses her harder, fingers twining in her hair as he pulls her closer, lips curling into a smile.

He could forgive not getting to say the speech. He’d just incorporate it into his vows.


	22. Philinda; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PHILINDA AU - Married spies that adopt a bunch of rugrats

“Natasha’s piano recital is Thursday night,” Phil reminds her as she looks over the details of their op one more time, papers spread out over the bedspread. “And Bobbi’s decided she wants her twelfth birthday party to be superman-themed, apparently.”

Melinda rolled her eyes, tucking her hair behind her ear as she watched him clean his gun, parts spread out over the desk. “It’s because you let her watch all those Saturday morning cartoons, you know.”

“I didn’t intend for her to fall in love with Clark Kent! She was supposed to love Steve Rogers,” he complains, shaking his head. “At least Matt and Skye love Cap. They’re my real children.”

“Oh shut up, they’re all our real children,” Melinda replied, standing and stretching, back popping. “Fury said this should be the last mission for a few months- we can call Peggy back about those twins and having them stay with us as a trial run.”

“Wanda and Pietro- right? The two year olds?” Phil asked, forehead creased in concentration as he began to reassemble his gun. Melinda nodded, coming to stand behind him, arms wrapping around his neck as she pressed her lips to his temple.

“We can talk to the kids when we get home,” she murmured, fingers stroking over his chest. “It’s been over four years since we adopted Skye. It’d be nice to have some babies back in the house.”

“We’ll call Peggy tomorrow,” he responded softly, wiping off his fingers and wrapping them around Melinda’s wrists, turning to kiss her bicep lightly. “It’s almost time for the meet. We should get dressed.”

Melinda nodded, stepping back slightly to allow him to stand before stepping into his embrace, feeling his lips on her forehead. “I love you, Phil Coulson.”

“And I love you, Melinda Coulson,” he replied, fingers cupping her cheeks. “Let’s finish this op and get home to our kids.”


	23. Philinda; T

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> philinda - “I almost lost you.”

He wakes up in a hospital bed, his head pounding, and a warm weight on his right side.

“Ugh,” is all he manages, but the weight on his right side shifts, and as he opens his eyes, Melinda’s face comes blurrily into view.

“Phil?” her voice asks as he closes his eyes again, squeezing them shut against the massive headache pounding between his temples. “Phil can you hear me?”

“Yes,” he manages to whisper, voice scratchy in his throat. “Everything’s loud.”

“I’m sorry,” she replied, dropping her voice to a murmur, his hands soft on his face. “Do you remember what happened, Phil?”

He screwed his face up in concentration, eyes still closed, and tried to remember. He remembered the helicarrier. He remembered Gordon dying. He remembered-

“My hand,” is all he can get out before his throat closes up and he can’t speak; his eyes open slowly and he looks down his left arm. Where his hand used to be is simply a swatch of bandages, traveling halfway up his arm. Just white cloth.

“Phil,” Melinda’s voice catches his attention and he looks up at her; swallowing. “Mack saved your life.”

Phil doesn’t say anything; he can’t say anything through the thickness in his throat or the pressure behind his eyes. Melinda’s head dips slightly as she lowers her gaze; she tucks her hair behind her ear before her eyes rise to his again, cheeks wet with tears.

“I almost lost you,” she whispers, and his hand automatically rises to brush away the wetness, until he realizes he doesn’t have a left hand anymore. He switches to his right; she leans into his touch, fingers coming up to grasp his wrist tightly, holding him against her.

“Never gonna happen again,” is all he manages to whisper back, fingers threading through her hair. “I promise.”


	24. Phil/Pepper; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> philpepper - you asked me to the store with you and your child, and now my distant relative we met thinks im married with a baby

“Phil, can you hold Ella?” Pepper asked, turning from where she’d been looking at diapers to face him. He took the baby from her gently, settling the sleeping infant in his arms as Pepper smiled at him tiredly before she turned back to the display.

He’d agreed to go shopping with her when she’d called him in near tears because Ella wouldn’t stop crying and she was out of diapers. He’d taken to helping out more since Ella had been born and Pepper had been left as a single parent two months ago; his younger brother had knocked her up and left her, so Phil had shouldered the responsibility like he always did.

And Pepper was a good, kind person who Phil enjoyed spending time with; Ella was precious, and while he hadn’t spent much time around babies, he’d become quite adept at changing diapers and scheduled feedings.

“I still don’t understand why she never cries when you’re around,” Pepper said fondly as she deposited her items into the shopping cart, moving over to them and running her hand over Ella’s head gently.

“She knows I’m the cool uncle,” he answers, and Pepper laughs, shaking her head affectionately at him.

“Phillip Coulson!” Phil turns at the sound of his full name, eyes scanning until the older woman waving at him comes into focus. He groaned internally but pasted a smile on his face, adjusting Ella in his arms slightly.

“Aunt Clara,” he replies as his great aunt moves closer, smiling at him. “It’s been awhile.”

“Clearly!” she responds, eyes on Ella. “I didn’t even know you’d gotten married, let alone had a baby! She’s beautiful, what’s her name?”

Phil is too stunned to full comprehend her words, his reply of “Ella” all he can get out as Pepper laughs silently into his shoulder, not helping him in the slightest.

“Oh, she looks just like you, Phillip, she’s precious,” his great aunt coos, fingers running over Ella’s sock-covered toes before her phone goes off, the ringtone loud and shrill; Ella’s face scrunches up before her mouth opens in a loud cry, the noise shocking her awake.

Between the commotion of both Phil and Pepper working to soothe Ella and Phil’s great aunt answering her phone, there’s no time for Phil to explain that he and Pepper aren’t married and Ella isn’t his, and when Ella is finally calm and ensconced in her mother’s arms, she’s disappeared.

“Well this is going to be a disaster,” Phil says quietly, running a hand over his face. Pepper places her hand on his arm, squeezing gently.

“Why do you say that?” she asks, tilting her head slightly as strawberry blonde curls bounce against her shoulders.

“Clara is the gossip hound of the family,” Phil answers, sighing. “Everyone’s going to assume what she says is true and I’ll have about thirty voicemails tomorrow morning congratulating us.”

“Would that be so bad?” Pepper asked, catching him off guard. “You might not be her biological father, but you are the one helping with three am feedings and going out to buy diapers on a Friday night and doing baths and making her smile. That sounds a lot like something dads do to me.”

“But we’re not even together, Pepper,” Phil replied softly, and Pepper shifted closer, free hand coming up to stroke over his chest. “As much as I want to…”

“Don’t be noble, for once, Phil,” she interrupts, looking down at Ella before looking up at him. “Listen to your heart instead of your head.”

He looks at her for a long moment, eyes searching hers, before he leans down, pressing his mouth to hers. She sighed at the contact, melting into him as his hand came up to cradle Ella beneath hers, keeping her between them.

“It’s not so bad, thinking with your heart,” he murmurs, forehead pressed to hers. She laughs, soft and melodic in his ears, and he feels at home for the first time in years.


	25. Fitzsimmons; M

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fitzsimmons + hatesex and babyfic

She hates him.

(or rather, she’s supposed to hate him. She thought she hated him. He’s her rival in every sense of the word, from the moment she’d met him. But his mouth is on her neck, and even with all the vodka in her system, she knows she wants his teeth on her skin and his hands sliding under her skirt as they fall back against her room door.)

She’s not quite sure how they’d gotten from the bar to her room, but Fitz had kept her well distracted with his mouth on hers and his fingers drawing patterns on her thighs throughout the taxi ride back to the Academy. She’d stumbled her way down the hall, his hands searing her hips through her skirt as she fumbled with her room key, finally unlocking the door. She was incredibly grateful she managed to remember her roommate was staying with friends for the weekend, because the moment the door is shut behind them, Fitz had torn her shirt off, mouth moving to her breasts immediately.

“Fi-tz,” she manages to moan out as he pushes her towards her bed, movements still gentle though forceful. I hate him I hate him I hate-

He responds by tugging her thin, lacy panties down her legs, spreading her open with capable hands, and burying his face between her thighs. Her internal monologue was cut off as she laced her fingers through his thick curls, his name escaping her lips as his nose brushed against her clit.

Her first orgasm is when she’s half-dressed, Fitz between her thighs; she tugs him up and sighs at the taste of herself on his tongue, threading her right hand through his hair and tugging at his zipper with her left. They get tangled as they finish undressing each other; he gets distracted when her bra falls to the floor and she gets sidetracked by his hip bones, but eventually she ends up on top of him, his hands on her hips as she eases down onto him.

No internal monologue about how much she hates him can overwhelm how good he feels inside of her; she grasps the headboard as they set a rhythm, her name leaving his throat on a low groan. She realizes after a few moments that neither of them had thought to mention a condom, but then he hits that spot inside her that makes her see stars and she forgets all about it.

Jemma comes with his name on her lips and her head thrown back; she tumbles down beside him and rests her face on his chest, catching her breath as his fingers brush over her arm gently.

“We’re still not friends,” she murmurs, half-asleep and slightly slurred; Fitz laughs softly, untangling her hair with his fingers.

“I know, Simmons.”

_

“I guess we do work better together than apart,” Jemma murmurs softly as she looks up at Fitz, offering him a tired smile as he brushed her hair out of her face. “She’s perfect.”

“Welcome to the world, Margaret Fitzsimmons,” is all he has to say, pressing a kiss to Jemma’s head. “And thanks for bringing your mommy to me.”


	26. Philinda; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> philinda - things you said that i wasn’t meant to hear

In the over three decades that they’d been friends, this was the first time he’d butt-dialed her.

She almost hangs up when all she hears for thirty seconds is fuzzy static; she’s about to take the phone from her ear when something shifts, and suddenly she can hear Skye’s voice, slightly muffled by the fabric of Phil’s suit pocket. Figuring it can’t hurt, she keeps listening, curled up on a beach chair under an umbrella.

“So have you heard from May?” Skye asks, and Melinda feels Phil’s sigh before she hears it. Something in her chest twists painfully.

“No, Skye, I haven’t,” he answers, voice low and tired. She can picture him, at his desk, arm still in his sling and his head bowed as he rubbed at the pinched skin between his eyes.

“Well have you called her?” Skye prompts, and Melinda knows she’s practically bouncing on her toes in his office, files probably in her hand in a poor excuse to come see Phil.

“She didn’t go on vacation to be bothered, Skye,” is his only answer, and Melinda swallows at the sadness tinging his tone. He sounds so tired and alone, and it makes her heart hurt because it’s partially her fault.

She’d had to leave; she’d needed a break- a chance to find herself again. A chance to explore the part of herself that had reemerged with the truth of Bahrain coming to light. Some time on a beach, away from SHIELD and responsibilities was all she needed- then she’d be back.

Maybe the timing wasn’t great. Phil had lost a hand, and a part of himself. The events of the helicarrier has scarred their team- and Skye had lost the family she’d idealized for so long. But she’d needed to go- she’d needed to be selfish for once.

“I don’t think she’d mind if you called her, AC,” Skye’s soft voice cut through Melinda’s thoughts, and she swallowed quietly. Phil sighed again, his movement rustling against the phone. “You’re her oldest friend.”

“I won’t ruin her vacation with Andrew by calling at an inconvenient time,” he says with an air of finality, and this time her throat closes up. “She deserves to be happy, and I realize I can’t give her that anymore. Maybe I never really have been able to.”

It hurts to breathe as Melinda fumbles to end the call, tears streaking down her cheeks as she swipes beneath her eyes. _Oh Phil. It’s time to go home. To you._


	27. Skimmons; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> skimmons + things you said under the stars and in the grass

“Why are you out here by yourself?” Skye looks up at the sound of Jemma’s voice before turning back to the stars, shrugging her shoulders against the grass.

“The cabin is getting a little crowded,” she answers, fingers lacing together over her stomach as the scientist settled down beside her, shoulders brushing. “And I can’t take another round of strip uno. I’m going to have Coulson’s pasty chest tattooed on the inside of my eyeballs for the rest of my life.”

Jemma giggled softly, shaking her head fondly as they lay in the grass, the world quiet around them. “May dragged him out for a walk a little while ago; the boys were trying to get Bobbi to agree to a drinking game because Hunter found two bottles of unopened whiskey stashed in the bathroom cupboard.”

Skye snorted, rolling her eyes. “I can’t say I’m sad I’m missing that. Hunter’s a terrible drunk.”

“Bobbi will drink them all under the table, even Mack,” Jemma replies, fondness in her tone as she turns to face Skye, hand under her chin to prop herself up. “Something’s wrong, Skye. Talk to me.”

Skye sighs softly, eyes slipping shut as her fingers unlace themselves, drifting down to brush through the grass at her sides.

“I spent so long trying to build this picture perfect family in my mind that I thought that was the only family I wanted,” she starts softly, fingers tugging at the green strands softly. “But now that that image is gone, I don’t…feel as empty, as I thought I would.”

“That’s because you have a family, Skye,” Jemma says as Skye trails off, eyes looking up at the stars again. “We’re dysfunctional and we aren’t blood, but we are your family. Even if you may not want us.”

Skye’s eyes shifted from the sky to look at Jemma, lips curling softly upwards as she reaches for Jemma’s free hand, fingers linking with hers and squeezing gently.

“You’re a lot more than family to me, Jemma,” Skye confesses softly, watching as the other girl’s cheeks flush pink, affection welling inside of her. Jemma ducked her head, tucking her hair behind her ear before she leaned forward, tongue darting out to lick her lips before her nose brushed Skye’s.

“Prove it,” she murmured, eyes dark as she leaned over Skye. The hacker’s lips curled into a full grin before she reached up, twining her fingers into fair, curly hair, tugging her against her as their lips met.


	28. Pepperony; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> pepperony, things you said over the phone

The phone ringing wakes her; she reaches for it immediately, blinking sleep from her eyes as she puts it to her ear without checking the caller id.

“Hello?” she asks sleepily, swallowing back a yawn.

“Pep?” she hears after a beat, and she tenses at the strain in Tony’s voice.

“Tony, what’s wrong?” she asks, sitting up and pushing the sheets off her body, phone pressed tightly to her ear.

“I just needed to hear your voice,” he answers tightly, and she swallows, eyes closing briefly.

“Another nightmare?” she asks softly, and his silence is enough of an answer. “Do you want me to come over?”

“Just talk to me,” he says instead, clearing his throat and shifting slightly.

“Natasha called me today,” she starts, settling back against the pillows. “Told me all about Steve kicking your ass in the ring during sparing today.”

“He did not kick my ass,” Tony replies, petulance in his tone, and Pepper smiles, rolling her eyes. “Aren’t you supposed to be cheering me up?”

“You just said to talk to you, there were no specific instructions involving cheer,” she answers, pulling a laugh from him. “I could tell you what I’m wearing.”

“I’m suddenly feeling cheerier.”


	29. Skimmons; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> skimmons + things you said at 1 am

_U up?_

The text from Skye lights up Jemma’s phone screen and she sets aside the book she’s pretending to read to respond; she’s halfway through her response when there’s a knock at her door. Skye opens the door moments later without pause, shutting it quietly behind her and coming to climb into bed with her.

“I can’t sleep,” she sighs, burrowing into Jemma’s pillow, forehead nudging her shoulder.

“Neither can I,” Jemma murmurs in response, fingers moving to comb through Skye’s tangled hair. “Why can’t you sleep?”

“Every time I close my eyes I feel her hand around my neck,” Skye whispers, and Jemma swallows, fingers pausing gently in their motions.

“We almost lost you,” Jemma replies, voice sticking in her throat as she forces the words out. She leans closer, cheek resting on the top of Skye’s head. Her next words are so soft Skye almost misses them. “ _I_ almost lost you.”

“Never,” Skye whispers, pulling back and cradling Jemma’s cheeks in her palms, thumbs brushing along her cheekbones. “I will always come back to you, Jemma. I promise.”

The bed shakes slightly as Jemma surges forward, lips pressing to Skye’s; they sigh softly into the kiss, the hacker’s hands sliding into the scientist’s hair as Jemma’s slid down to tug at Skye’s hips. She presses against her, no gaps between them, finally letting the worry and fear and distance of the last year disappear between them.

“I promise,” Skye repeats when they break apart, leaning up to kiss Jemma’s forehead, before her lips touched her nose and both cheeks, finally leaving another kiss on her lips. “My home is wherever you are, Jemma Simmons.”


	30. Melinda/Steve; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> melindasteve + things you said through your teeth

“We never should have left New York.”

Her words are barely above a whisper, but he hears them loud and clear. When he lifts his gaze to her, her back is to him, her head tipped downwards.

“Melinda-”

“Don’t, Steve,” she interrupts, cutting him off while still keeping her back to him. “Nothing has been the same since we left, and you know it.”

“It’s an adjustment,” he admits, some of the fight going out of him. “We both knew things would be different out here.”

“I didn’t think different would mean feeling like I’m losing you,” she manages to whisper before a sob slips out, and Steve feels his chest cave in as her head drops into her hands as she begins to cry.

He crosses the living room and pulls her into his arms, tucking her under his chin as she clutches at his shirt. She mumbles something into his chest, but he doesn’t understand it until she calms down. _I already lost him, I can’t lose you too._

“You’ll never lose me,” he murmurs into her hair, drawing her tighter against him. “I promise, Melinda. I will always come back to you.”

“Not just me,” she whispers, voice thick. Steve looks down at her in confusion, thumb swiping over her cheek to wipe away the stray tears that slipped from her lashes, questions in his eyes. Melinda reached into her back pocket, pulling out a thin, white piece of plastic; it takes Steve a moment, but he recognizes the two blue lines visible on the small screen, and his mouth drops open.

“Are we…?” he trails off, unable to voice it, but Melinda nods, tears glistening in her eyes again, but this time her face is filled with joy; he lifts her into his arms, mouth on hers as her arms weave around his neck, pressed tight against him.

“I’m sorry,” he manages when they part, forehead touching hers. “I’m sorry I’ve been distant and gone so much; I never meant to hurt you. I never want to hurt you. I just want to be able to support you away from SHIELD and I’m worried I can’t do that.”

“All I need is you, Steve,” Melinda whispers, hands moving to cup his cheeks. “All I need to be happy is you with me, and this baby. I just want us to be a family.”

Steve’s mouth covers hers, no words he could say conveying his message as well as that kiss; he tugs her up until her legs wrap around his waist, and he carries her through their comfortably small, one story house towards their bedroom. He deposits her in the center of their bed, leaning over her as he tucks a few strands of hair behind her ear. “I love you, Melinda May.”

Melinda smiles up at him, hands sliding up his arms to press over his heart lightly, voice soft but happy. “I love you too, Steve Rogers.”


	31. Steve/Peggy; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve/Peggy + "I'm pregnant"

It’s still so shocking to be _young_.

Gone are the wrinkles and gray hair; gone was the arthritic pain in her wrists. It still caught her off guard to look in the mirror and realize she was twenty eight again- even though she was nearly a century old now. She’d gone into the experimental de-aging program a year ago knowing it might not work, that it could be disastrous- but instead she’d stepped out of the chamber almost eighty years younger.

Steve had been with her every step of the way; the first thing she’d done was kiss him the way she’d wanted to after the serum had proven successful- and now they had so much _time_. Time to be together; time to live a life together.

“You’re a million miles away.”

Steve’s voice pulls her from her thoughts; her cheeks flushed as she tucked a few strands of hair out of her face. The new gold bands that adorned their left ring fingers flashed as Peggy curled into her husband’s side, head on his shoulder as they gazed out onto the beach, the setting sun turning the ocean blood red.

“I’m just happy,” she murmurs softly, nose pressed against his neck. “I’m so happy, Steve.”

“I know,” he answers quietly, fingers carding gently through her hair as he turned to press a kiss to the top of her head. They sat together quietly, watching the sun set before Peggy stood up, offering Steve her hands and a soft smile, tugging him gently into the beach bungalow Pepper had found for their stay.

The moment the door shut behind them, Steve had Peggy wrapped up in his arms; hers slid around his neck, keeping her tight against him as they moved toward the bedroom. Steve gently lowered her onto the bedspread, hovering over her as his mouth moved down her neck, sucking just hard enough to leave a faint mark beneath her right ear.

“Steve,” Peggy murmured, hands pressing on his chest lightly to get him to look at her; he held himself above her with one arm, using the other hand to brush her hair tenderly out of her face as he smiled down at her. “I have something to tell you.”

The sudden seriousness in her tone caused the corners of Steve’s mouth to dip slightly, but the blinding smile Peggy gave to reassure him eased the tension from his face. She took a breath, still laid out underneath him; grasping the hand that cupped her face, she guided it down until it was pressed lightly over her abdomen, then looked up at him, eyes shimmering.

“I’m pregnant, Steve,” she whispered; his mouth dropped open, eyes wide, before his lips curved into a brilliant smile, eyes wet.

“You mean we’re-” he cuts himself off, voice cracking slightly, and Peggy nodded, a few tears spilling over.

“We’ve having a baby,” she finished, laughing into the kiss Steve pulls her into, thumbs brushing over her cheeks and wiping away tears as he stole what breath she had left. “You’re happy?”

“Ecstatic,” he replied, holding her close, nose brushing hers. “I never wanted this with anyone but you, Peg.”

Peggy just kissed him again, curled up in his arms, the sound of waves crashing in the background the only noise.


	32. Philinda; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> philinda + things you said with too many miles between us

Her phone is off.

It doesn’t surprise him; she’s on vacation, she left without a word other than “the forms are on your desk”, and he’s only half-sure she’s even coming back. Answering her phone is probably the least of her priorities, and he understands.

But there’s this ache in his chest when he looks at the table empty of her doing paperwork; it’s this tiny little pin-prick of pain because she isn’t there, cold as ice, right in the center of his heart. It’s reminiscent of Loki’s scepter, only this one isn’t dulled by time or distance.

The first voicemail he leaves is awkward and stilted; he hadn’t anticipated leaving one, but he’d been so caught up in hearing her voice he’d waited too long to politely hang up. He manages a simple “I hope your trip is going nicely” and even a soft, only slightly-strangled laugh after a joke about paperwork and being one-handed before he ends the call, burying his face in his right palm.

He waits a few days before he calls again; this time he’s prepared to leave a message. It’s short, and still simple, a mere “I thought I’d check in, make sure you didn’t need anything, don’t worry about the kids”. (the last one is a lie, because they still don’t know how to save Jemma and he can’t remember the last time he saw Fitz or Skye outside of the lab, but Melinda’s on vacation.)

The next time he calls, he’s drunk and it’s late; so late that the sky is approaching the lavender of dawn. “I miss you” manages to slip into this message, and his words stumble over each other in their haste to leave his mouth. The weight of her absence is so heavy on his throat he can barely swallow; can barely whisper her name before he hangs up, not even changing out of his suit before he passes out on top of his covers.

The fourth message is unexpected; it’s the middle of the day and Skye’s leading a mission on her own and it just hits him how much he misses Melinda. Not his top agent- his best friend. He misses listening to her softly tease Skye; he misses watching her help Fitz in the lab; he misses the smile she’d give him when she was sure no one was watching. “Melinda, when are you coming home?” is out his mouth before he can stop himself, and he cuts off the last bit he wants to ( _when are you coming home to me?_ is swallowed, settling in the pit of his stomach like a lead weight), hanging up.

The fifth message is late, late at night, while sitting outside Jemma’s hospital room. He’s had too much coffee to sleep, not enough coffee to stay truly awake, and both Skye and Fitz have refused to leave Jemma’s side, curled up on the floor together, Fitz’s hand reaching up to stay linked with Jemma’s even in sleep. He’s tired, and alone, and miserable, and he just wants Melinda. The look in Jemma’s eyes reminds him of the look on Melinda’s face when he’d found her in that warehouse in Bahrain, and he just needs her there. “I need you, Melinda. Please come home.” is all he says, and he knows his voice is tired; knows his voice sounds old.

The ringing of his phone startles him from the doze that he’d managed; he fumbles one-handedly before he brings it up to his ear, a tried “Coulson” his greeting.

_“Phil?”_

Melinda’s voice is soft in his ear, and his eyes close as his heart pumps in his chest. Hearing her voice is like coming up for air after being in the ocean for too long, and he inhales sharply. “Melinda.”

“ _I got your message_ ,” she says, and he presses his elbows into his knees, sitting forward slightly. “ _I got all of your messages_.”

“I’m glad you called,” is all he can say, barely able to speak above a whisper. “Please come home.”

“ _I’m on my way,_ ” she answers, voice a little thick over the fuzzy phone line.  _“I missed you too, Phil. I’ll be there soon.”_

He shuts the phone, and for the first time allows his lips to curl into a soft smile.


	33. Philinda; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> phillinda + parents meeting when they take their kids to class au

“Skye, honey, we’re going to be late!” Melinda called up the stairs for the third time, rubbing at her forehead. “You’re the one who wanted to take a summer science class!”

“I’m _coming_!” Skye yelled back, voice muffled by the closed bedroom door. Melinda sighed, rolling her eyes as she grabbed her daughter’s backpack from the den and grabbed the two pieces of toast that popped out of the toaster; she’d just put the butter knife in the sink when her fifteen year old bounded down the stairs, brunette hair flying.

“You’ll have to eat in the car, let’s go,” Melinda said, herding Skye out the door and handing her the toast as she snagged the keys from the dish. “You have everything, right? Because I have a meeting with Tony after I drop you off and I can’t double back-”

“Mom, I have everything, I promise,” Skye interrupted, putting her feet up on the dash as Melinda backed out of the driveway, heading for the highway. “I know I overslept but Trip kept me up on skype and-”

“I told you no skype after midnight, Skye,” Melinda said with a frown, looking over at her daughter and smacking at her ankle until the teenager lowered her feet back to the floor.

“It was an accident,” Skye mumbled through a mouthful of toast, looking contrite. “I just miss him.”

“He’ll be back in three weeks, honey,” Melinda reminded her, though her voice was considerably softer. “It’s just Space Camp.”

“It’s _aeronautical engineering camp_ , god Mom,” Skye corrected her, rolling her eyes. “Space Camp is for kids.”

“Yes, because you’re such adults,” Melinda replied, tone amused as she pulled onto the community college campus, heading for the science building. “I’ll walk you in.”

“Mooooooo _oooooooooom_ ,” Skye groaned, cheeks pink with embarrassment, but Melinda wouldn’t budge. “Fine, but please don’t kiss me goodbye or anything, seniors take this class too!”

“I would hate to embarrass you on your first day,” Melinda said in a sickly sweet voice, wrapping her arm around her daughter and kissing her cheek as they walked. Skye complained, but she couldn’t keep the laughter out of her voice as she leaned into her mom as they walked.

Ahead of them was a man with two girls Melinda assumed were his daughters; one was taller than him, with blonde ringlets falling down her back- the other was shorter than him, hair cut to her chin as she bounced excitedly alongside him, chatting animatedly.

They reached the building at approximately the same time; he held the door for them, giving Melinda a smile as she murmured a soft “thank you”; he had thick-rimmed glasses and a receding hairline, but he was attractive for his age. Melinda shocked herself with her thoughts- she really hadn’t given much thought to dating since Skye’s father had left years ago, and she didn’t normally notice men anymore. It came with the territory of being over 40 and having a teenaged daughter, she’d supposed.

But as they headed towards the same room- Melinda assumed the girls must be taking the same science class as Skye- she couldn’t help but glance over at the man again. He was smiling at whatever the younger girl was saying, and she couldn’t help but notice what a nice smile he had.

“Okay I can get there from here,” Skye interrupted her thoughts by tugging on her hand, and Melinda merely tucked a few strands of hair behind her daughter’s ear, smiling at her.

“Have fun, baby. I’ll pick you up at three,” she said, and Skye nodded before breaking her own rule and leaning forward to hug her mom tightly and whispering “I love you” before she darted away, introducing herself to the two blonde girls as they walked into the classroom.

She smiled, and once Skye had disappeared into the room, headed back towards the exit, mind already on the business meeting she was sure she was going to be late for with Tony Stark, one of the fitness center’s investors. She was so wrapped up in sending him a text that she barely noticed where she was going until she walked into a warm, solid mass.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, looking up into the face of the man she’d noticed earlier. _He has the bluest eyes._  “I was not paying attention to where I was going whatsoever.”

“No harm, no foul,” he answered, giving her a smile. “This your first time?”

“I’m sorry?” she asked, eyebrows knitting together.

“Your daughter- is this your first time dropping her off for a class here?” the man elaborated, and Melinda nodded, understanding loosening her shoulders. “It’s my daughter Jemma’s first time, but my eldest Bobbi came last year.”

“I was hesitant, since Skye’s only a sophomore, but she came up with a whole power point presentation about how much she would benefit from it,” Melinda answered in amusement, shaking her head fondly. “I’m Melinda, by the way. Melinda May.”

“Phil Coulson,” he answered, grasping the hand she extended in a firm shake. “You don’t happen to be the Melinda May that owns May Fitness, do you?”

“The one and only,” she answered, smiling. “I’m actually late for a meeting, but it was lovely to meet you. I’m sure we’ll see more of each other this summer.”

“I hope so,” Phil answers, and Melinda allows the slightest blush to color her cheeks as she gets into her car, the pit of her stomach warm as she felt Phil’s eyes on her as she drove away.

Maybe this summer class _had_ been a good idea.


	34. Tripskye; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TRIPSKYE + things you said under the stars and in the grass

“You’ve been out here awhile.”

Skye looks up at Trip’s voice, smiling as she takes the bottle of beer he offers her before sitting down beside her. “It’s nice out here. Quiet.”

“We are in the middle of nowhere,” he replies, and she rolls her eyes, shoving at him with her shoulder. “Jemma and Fitz are asleep.”

“Asleep asleep or ‘fooling around under the covers’ asleep?” Skye asked, raising an eyebrow at him and Trip’s face paled slightly. “Yeah, probably better you’re out here with me.”

Trip’s lips quirked up into a smile, and Skye tugged him down to lay next to her, grass tickling their backs. “You know my grandpa used to point out the constellations to me all the time when I spent the night at his house.”

“He sounds like he was a fun guy,” Skye replies, turning her head to look at him and reaching her hand over to take his. His fingers lace through hers with no resistance as he nods, thumb brushing over the back of her hand.

“I can’t remember any except the big dipper to save my life these days though,” he says with a laugh, grinning. Skye joins in, muffling her laughter with the heel of her hand. “It’s nice to hear you laugh again.”

“It’s nice to have a reason to laugh again,” Skye answers softly, tucking her hair behind her ear. “I like myself around you.”

“Then I guess it’s a good thing I plan on being around for a long time,” Trip answers, squeezing her fingers; Skye leans forward, pressing a kiss to his cheek before she rests her head on his chest.

“I like the sound of that.”


	35. Skimmons; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> skimmons + things you said when you thought i was asleep

Jemma wakes up to the sound of Skye speaking softly.

It’s too early to be a decent hour to be awake at, Jemma’s sure of that; Skye is no longer curled up against her back- instead she’s sitting against the headboard. She must be on her phone, because no one else is in the room; Jemma goes to roll on her back to look up at her girlfriend, but is stopped when Skye speaks again.

“Jemma’s good, Mom,” she says quietly, and Jemma’s stomach warms at the smile that’s present in her voice. “We’ll visit soon, I promise.”

There’s silence as Jemma assumes Melinda talks, Skye humming along in agreement. “No, I haven’t asked yet.”

Jemma frowns, fingers tightening on the sheets.

“Mom, I have a _plan_ okay. I only get to ask the love of my life to marry me once, you know.”

Jemma stops breathing at Skye’s words; she works hard not to move, so as not to alert her girlfriend to the fact that she’d heard every word of her conversation. Skye says goodbye and slips back down to curl up against Jemma’s back, fingers reaching for hers instinctively. She presses a soft kiss to her neck before sighing softly, and Jemma relaxes into her, eyes slipping closed again as her lips curled into a smile.

 _Wife_ was a word she was looking forward to adding to her vocabulary.


	36. Skimmons; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> skimmons + things you said with no space between us

It still doesn’t quite feel real. They’ve officially been married for six whole hours, but it keeps washing over Skye in waves; the realization that Jemma Simmons (Jemma Coulson, Skye reminds herself giddily) is her wife.

“You’re thinking,” Jemma murmurs huskily, shifting from where she’s pressed into Skye’s side to press her lips to her neck.

“’m happy,” she whispers into Jemma’s hair, the sex-mused curls shivering from her breath. Jemma snuggles impossibly closer, her arm wrapping around Skye’s bare waist and brushing her fingers over her hipbone. “We got married today. In front of people.”

Jemma laughs, a soft, musical sound that Skye gets to hear _every day for the rest of her life_  because the woman in her arms _married her today_.

Skye maneuvers them until Jemma is spread out beneath her before she kisses her; it’s sloppy and possibly overenthusiastic, but Jemma responds eagerly, hands threading through Skye’s hair, tugging her closer until their bodies are pressed together at every point possible. They only break the kiss when breathing becomes absolutely necessary, and Skye nudges her nose against Jemma’s, smiling down at her.

“I love you so much,” she murmurs, captivated by the amount of pure happiness in Jemma’s eyes. “I’m going to tell you that every day for the rest of our lives together.”

“And I love you,” Jemma replies softly, hands cupping Skye’s cheeks, thumbs brushing over her cheekbones. “I couldn’t imagine being happier than I am right now, here, with you.”

“Thanks for marrying me,” Skye whispers, forehead pressed to Jemma’s.

“Thanks for asking,” Jemma whispers back, before her lips pressed to her wife’s again, hands slipping into her hair as Skye pressed back down into Jemma’s embrace.


	37. Coulson/Nat; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> coulson & nat + things you said when you thought i was asleep

She’s good at pretending to sleep.

It’s always been a skill, ever since she was little. It was better to keep your eyes closed and wish you were somewhere else. It was easier.

She doesn’t know if she trusts SHIELD, or Agent Barton, the man who brought her in, or Agent Coulson, the man he’d brought her to. Coulson’s name was Phil, and Natasha couldn’t help but think it suited him, in a way only names could suit a person. He was nice; he’d taken her handcuffs off and brought her something to eat, and his smile put her at ease.

She’d laid down after he’d asked what felt like a million questions; she can hear him and Barton ( _Clint_ , she reminds herself) talking through the half-opened door. A phone rings, and Barton’s voice disappears as Phil answers it.

She doesn’t catch the first few words, but he calls the person on the phone Melinda, and something in his voice changes when he speaks to her.

“ _There’s something about her, Lin,_ ” he says, and the nickname throws Natasha off guard, because she can’t tell if he’s talking to a colleague, or someone he’s in a relationship with. “ _She’s not like anyone I’ve ever seen out of the KGB before._ ”

There’s silence as Melinda talks, and Barton grumbles on his breath before Phil speaks again.

“ _I think you’re the best one for the job, May,_ ” he says, and the sincerity in his voice makes something in Natasha’s chest loosen. “ _She’s scared, and alone, and she needs someone to take her under their wing. You could make her the best SHIELD’s ever seen. I know you can- and I know she could make you proud._ ”

Natasha squeezes her eyes shut further, the unfamiliar feeling of having someone believe in her rough on her skin. She barely knew this Phil Coulson, but she couldn’t help but want to show him his words weren’t unfounded. For the first time in years, she wanted to make someone proud of what she did.

For the first time, she _felt_.


	38. Skimmons; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> skimmons + things you didn’t say at all

She’s not quite sure how exactly it happens, but they just….don’t talk.

Or rather, they talk. But not about anything that matters. Skye asks questions about her work, and she answers, but there are no anecdotes anymore. No attempts to make Skye laugh just to see her smile. No asking about Afterlife. No asking about the helicarrier. No asking about anything anymore.

Jemma tried not to take it personally. She really had. But Skye is _different_ and things between them are _different_ and change is something Jemma’s never dealt well with. Gone are the nights of Skye trying to teach her to play Call of Duty as an excuse to wrap her arms around her; gone are the nights of Jemma making Skye tea from her hometown when she can’t sleep; gone are the tipsy kisses she’d been so fond of when Skye had brought out the beer.

Skye was constantly busy these days, doing things for Coulson and going out to meet new Inhumans and training with May. She stopped by the lab on occasion, but Jemma normally let Fitz talk to her, pretending to be engrossed with her work.

(She doesn’t notice the glances Skye throws in her direction; doesn’t realize that the way she feels is reflected on Skye’s face whenever she can’t see.)

“Hey, Jemma!” the scientist turns at the sound of Skye’s voice, balancing her cup of tea carefully in her hands as the brunette skids to a halt beside her.

“Hello Skye,” she says, forcing her lips to curve up into a half-smile. “What can I do for you?”

“I was wondering if you wanted to maybe play some Call of Duty tonight? I figured you could use some refreshers,” Skye asks, a hesitant smile on her face that causes a stab of pain just south of Jemma’s breast bone.

“I actually have plans with Fitz tonight,” Jemma replies, swallowing as Skye’s face falls. “Maybe another night.”

She walks away before Skye can respond, walking quickly, wincing when the hot tea sloshes over the side of her cup, spilling onto the skin of her thumb.

It doesn’t hurt as much as her heart does.


	39. Phil/Steve(/Melinda)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> philsteve + things you said over the phone

It’s late, and Phil’s tired; the sheets don’t feel right and the bed’s too empty and nothing has been right since Steve walked out the door three days ago.

It’s a stupid fight. It’s always a stupid fight. But Steve is always gone these days, spending more and more time at the Avengers Academy, and Melinda’s god knows where with her stupid fucking ex-husband and he finds himself on the knife’s edge of lashing out constantly.

Steve left his dirty socks next to the dryer rather than starting a new load of laundry, and Phil had been on his last nerve between trying to find Jemma and trying to get Melinda to come home and having to listen to Tony ask him five times a day why he hadn’t told them he was alive sooner. So Phil yells when all he really wants to do is watch Steve cook and curl up with some dumb romance movie on the couch and spend time with him.

He’d practically pushed him out the door, slamming it shut and turning to lock; Steve had stood behind it for a long time before he’d finally driven away with his rumbling motorcycle.

They hadn’t spoken since; it’s the longest they’ve gone since Phil came back from the dead officially and they started whatever this thing between them was. He’d gotten used to sleeping next to someone again; gotten used to Steve’s strong arms around him; gotten used to finally not being so alone all the time since Melinda had walked away.

He gropes for his phone on the bedside table, not even bothering to turn a light on; he programs in the number from memory, letting his eyes slip closed as the soft ring of the phone filled his ear. Four rings later the click of Steve picking up comes through, and for a moment neither of them said anything; just the chorus of their breathing in sync, muffled by the static of the phone line.

“Come home,” Phil murmured softly, chest loosening the slightest bit. “I was a jerk, and I’m sorry. I need you to come home.”

Steve’s quiet for a few moments, and Phil’s heart jumps to his throat, but then there’s a soft sigh and a hum.

“I’m at Nat’s,” he replies quietly, not quite an answer. “Melinda’s here too, you know. Been here awhile.”

“Steve…”

“Come here. It’s time we all finally talked,” Steve interrupts, voice gentle. “I know how I feel about you, and how I hope you feel about me. But she’s been in your life a lot longer than I have. Let’s just talk, Phil. We need you here.”

For the first time in a long time, Phil Coulson smiles with ease.


	40. Melinda/Steve; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> melindasteve + things you said when we were the happiest we ever were

“She looks just like you,” Steve murmurs softly, unable to take his eyes off the baby in his arms; Melinda smiles tiredly, fingers stroking through Ava’s soft curls as the toddler cuddled into her side, thumb in her mouth and eyes drooping.

“I’m so happy you made it in time,” she whispers back, unwilling to wake either of their daughters and break the quiet peace they’d found themselves in. Steve stands carefully from the chair he’s in to come sit on Melinda’s free side, adjusting Lucy carefully in his arms so he can wrap his free one around his wife.

“I wouldn’t have missed this for the world,” he replies in a low voice, lips brushing over the shell of her ear. “Our daughters are perfect, Melinda. Our family is perfect.”

Melinda doesn’t answer, unable to form words to express how much she loves him; instead she tilts her head upwards until her mouth meets his, lips curving into a smile against his. Steve nudged her nose affectionately with his, smiling down at her.

“Ew, Mama,” Ava said sleepily, reaching a hand up clumsily to push at their faces. Steve couldn’t help but laugh, his movement causing Lucy to wake; instead of scrunching her face up to cry, though, she merely blinked her eyes open and took in her surroundings, mouth opening and closing silently.

Steve transferred Lucy into Melinda’s arms and took Ava into his, rocking her to sleep as Melinda adjusted herself to nurse Lucy. Steve paces quietly, rocking Ava until she’s giving soft little huffing snores into his neck, before he settles in the chair near the head of Melinda’s bed, watching her with lips curled into a half-smile. She looks up from Lucy and catches him looking at her; she starts to smile, tucking her hair behind her ear self-consciously. “What-”

“You’re so beautiful,” he interrupted, heart warming at the pink flush that stole over her cheeks. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” she replies softly, reaching over to take his hand in hers. “I’ve never been happier than I am right now. This is all I’ve ever wanted. I’m glad I have it with you.”

Steve lifts her hand until he can kiss her knuckles, smiling against her skin as she smiles over at him.


	41. Philinda; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> philinda + “I brought you an umbrella.”

She’s having a really shitty day.

It’s barely two in the afternoon and so far she’s: probably failed an Arabic test, managed to lose the third page of her eight page Combat Ops paper, been late to lunch and ended up with the only thing left (a tuna sandwich, also known as her least favorite food in the world), and she needed to catch the bus to the train station so she didn’t miss her train back home.

And it was fucking _pouring rain_.

“This is just great,” she yells out at no one in particular- just the universe in general. “This day couldn’t get any shittier, could it?”

The moment she speaks, though, a truck blasts by, bringing up a wave of dirty water that crashes against her jean-clad shins, soaking through. “ _Seriously?_ ”

“Seems like you’re having a bad day,” she turns at the sound of her best friend’s voice, glaring at the amused tone. “I brought you an umbrella.”

She doesn’t say anything; just smiles as Phil steps next to her, covering her with the large umbrella and slinging an arm over her shoulder, rubbing his hand up and down her arm to warm her up. “I found that page of your paper under my bed and brought it to Professor Warner. And there’s a peanut butter and jelly in my bag, I snagged it from the cafeteria before my exam, you can have it for the ride.”

“I don’t deserve you,” Melinda says after a moment, head resting on his shoulder. She could practically hear his smile as he turned his head, lips brushing her damp forehead lightly.

“Don’t freak out about your exam. It’ll ruin your weekend away, so ignore it and enjoy seeing your mom and bring me back some food, because I’m really sick of what the Academy deems acceptable nutrition,” Phil said, and she rolled her eyes, shoving at him playfully. The bus pulled up, and as the doors opened Melinda leaned up, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

“I’ll see you on Tuesday,” she murmured softly, squeezing his forearm gently before she slipped away, finding a seat on the bus near the window, waving at him as it pulled away.

Maybe today wasn’t such a terrible day.


	42. Tripskye; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tripskye + “Don’t cry.”

She just wanted to make cookies.

It was Trip’s birthday, and chocolate chip cookies were his favorite, and they didn’t have a mission so she figured she could make cookies while he was training with Bobbi. She found all the ingredients, turned on the oven, and mixed everything together, putting the trays into the oven.

Only, she forgets to set the timer, and gets absorbed in the card she’s making from cut-out pieces of the team pasted over bright orange paper- and then she smells smoke.

She pulls the burning cookies out of the oven, turns it off before she jams the smoke alarm off with a broom, and collapses into the middle of the kitchen, face in her hands as tears well up. She isn’t aware that anyone enters the kitchen until she feels the soft hands against her forearms, and she stiffens until she hears Trip’s voice in her ear and then she just starts to cry harder, letting him pull her against him.

“Don’t cry,” he murmurs, hand rubbing up and down her arm, chin on the top of her head.

“It’s your birthday,” she sobbed, nose pressed to his chest, hands gripping his shirt tightly. “I wanted to make cookies. And I screwed it all up. I ruined another birthday.”

“I don’t care about cookies, Skye,” Trip whispered, hand coming up to tuck her hair behind her ear, thumb brushing her tears away behind cupping her face in his palm. “My birthday is the opposite of ruined. You wanted to make me cookies, and that’s enough.”

“I just wanted to make you smile,” she whispered back, lip quivering slightly as she took a breath in, looking up at him. Trip looked down at her for a moment before his lips curved upwards into a smile, all the way up to his eyes.

“All you have to do is stand there in front of me and I smile, babe,” he replied simply, fingers threading through her hair. “You make me happy, Skye, just by existing.”

“So you don’t mind if your present ends up just being me?” she asked, and he shook his head, grinning before he leaned down, kissing her softly. She smiled against his mouth, arm slipping around his neck to pull him closer.

“You’re the only present I’ll ever need girl,” he answers, and she rolls her eyes, kissing him again.


	43. Philinda; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> philinda + it's okay. i couldn't sleep anyway.

It’s the middle of the night, and once again he can’t sleep.

Pulling a shirt over his head, he pads from his room to the kitchen, yawning as he filled a kettle up with water, putting it on the stove to heat. He flexed the fingers of his new hand, frowning as they didn’t quite move as he wanted them too.

He’s distracted when the kettle whistles, and he goes through the steps of making a cup of chamomile tea- he makes a mental note to buy another box when he goes out, since May’s supply is dwindling with all his late nights. He’d stirring in a spoonful of sugar- something his partner would hate if she knew he was adding it.

He takes a sip before he turns, intent on moving to the kitchen table when he notices the partner he was just thinking about lingering in the doorway.

“I hope I didn’t wake you,” he starts off awkwardly, and she shakes her head, slipping one shoulder down.

“It’s okay.  I couldn’t sleep anyway,” she murmurs, moving to sit across from him at the table, fingers linking together.

“Neither could I,” he replies, gesturing towards the tea, lips curving into an unconscious frown at his fake hand. Melinda reaches forward tentatively, hesitating for a mere moment before she rests her fingers on the faux leather.

“You’ll get used to it,” she says softly, real fingers gripping his fake fingers tightly.

“I’m too old for changes like this,” he answers after a moment, though he doesn’t pull away from her touch.

“But at least you’re alive,” is her only response as the pressure of her hand on his increased. “Phil you could have _died_.”

“It was me or them,” he replies simply, finally looking up to meet her gaze, startled by the tears in her eyes. “They have more to live for than I do.”

“That’s not true,” she responds with vehemently, reaching her other hand over to grasp his remaining hand.

“Melinda I’m fifty three years old, single, no family, the director of an agency that half the world hates,” he says after a moment, shrugging. “Maybe new blood is what SHIELD needs.”

“You’re an idiot,” she whispers, shaking her head before she gets up from her seat, rounding the table and slipping into his lap, hands coming up to frame his face. “They aren’t blood, but those kids are family. We’re rebuilding SHIELD. And maybe if you got out from behind that desk every so often and actually asked me out, you wouldn’t still be single.”

“I’m an idiot,” is all he can say, and Melinda shakes her head, thumb brushing along his cheekbone before she leans down, kissing him softly.

“Good thing I have a thing for idiots.”


	44. Stevenat; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> stevenat + things you said when we were on top of the world

“It’s nice up here,” Steve turns at the sound of Natasha’s voice, and he nods before he turns back towards the sunset. It’s quiet at the top of Avengers Tower; removed from the noise and traffic of the city. Steve likes to sit on the edge and think; look out at the city he’d grown up in and realize how much had changed over the decades.

Nat moves to settle beside him; her arm links through his as her head finds his shoulder. Her hair is still damp and slightly frizzy from the shower she’d been taking when he’d slipped out of their room. The bruises are still fresh on both of them from the helicarriers, and Nat’s bullet wounds still hurt her when she moves; he can tell.

“Pepper order Thai food; it’s still warm in the kitchen,” Nat murmurs quietly, fingers twining with his when he makes no move to get up. “We’ll find him, Steve.”

Steve doesn’t answer; just turned to press a kiss to the top of her head, squeezing her fingers gently. The low murmur of traffic thousands of feet below their feet grew louder with the rush hour traffic, and Steve felt Nat begin to doze quietly against his shoulder.

“Let’s go to bed,” he says softly, nudging her gently with his shoulder until she stands, tugging him with her. His arm wrapped instantly around her waist, letting her lean on him. “Thanks for believing in me, Natasha.”

She looked up at him, hair wavy and rumpled, eyes dim with sleep; her lips curled into a smile before she leaned up, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “It’s what I do, Rogers.”


	45. Philinda; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> philinda + please. don't leave.

She doesn’t even knock.

The door opens and shuts with a soft click, and he doesn’t look up from where he’s looking out the window. He hears the soft sigh of leather as she settles in the chair across from his desk, and his shoulders tense slightly.

“You’ll miss your flight,” he says, eyes gazing unseeingly at the fake scenery displayed outside the window, arm uncomfortable in the sling.

“There’s time,” is her quiet response, and he swallows thickly against the lump in his throat. He can’t look at her, because if he does, he’ll break. “It’s just two weeks.”

Her words are soft, lilting into an almost-question. His chest aches because he knows it’s more than two weeks, and it’s more than just a vacation, and he can already feel her slipping out of the few fingertips he has left.

He lost his left hand, and it suddenly felt like he might just be losing his right hand too. He turns to look at her, and she looks so small in his chair; she’s braided her hair back and the purple of her shirt is so much brighter than he’s used to. She half-smiles at him and the words are out of his mouth before he can stop himself.

“Please, don’t leave,” comes out as a rasped whisper; Melinda’s eyebrows knit together before she stands up, coming over to touch his forearms. She grips his arms before her hands slide to his chest, moving upwards until her palms cupped his cheeks, thumbs brushing over the soft, sleep-deprived bruises under his eyes.

“Phil,” she murmurs, fingertips moving over his skin, face inches from him.

“I can’t lose you too,” he confesses, voice hoarse as emotion overwhelms him. “I can’t lose the one person who matters to me the most, and if you walk out that door, you might not come back.”

“You can’t lose me,” she whispers back, and he’s shocked to see her dark eyes brimming with tears. “I’m the one that loses you, Phil.”

“You’ve never really lost me,” is all he can say, his remaining hand coming up to grip her hip, pulling her towards him. “I’ve always been yours.”

He has one moment to capture her face; tearstained cheeks, large, warm eyes, lips parted, before she closes the minimal distance between them and her mouth is on his. She tastes like mint toothpaste and the long decades it’s taken them to get here; she tastes like the warm fall morning they met; she tastes like the cold winter morning she walked back into his life.

She tastes worth it.


	46. Fitzsimmons; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> fitzsimmons + “Close your eyes and hold out your hands.”

“Fitz we really don’t have time for this-”

“Yes we do, hush now,” Fitz cuts her off, fingers curling around hers as he tugs her gently towards their room. Jemma sighs, but her lips curl into a smile as she follows Fitz down the hall.

“May and Coulson are waiting for us to watch Sophia,” she reminds him, and he shakes his head, turning to look back at her with his mouth curled up into a half-smirk. “It’s their date night and it’s our turn to babysit. I have a stack of books for her!”

“Daisy’s watching her with Lincoln and Mack. They’re introducing her to The Lion King since apparently Coulson refuses to watch it. Something about how he can’t watch the dad die,” Fitz explains, and Jemma rolls her eyes fondly. “Close your eyes, and give me your hands.”

“Fitz,” Jemma protested, albeit weakly; Fitz leaned forward, cutting off any further protest with the pressure of his mouth against hers. She sighed into the kiss, eyes slipping shut, she felt her boyfriend grin against her mouth before he pulled away, tugging at her hands gently until she moved forward with him.

“Careful,” Fitz murmured, guiding her through the door and shutting it softly behind him; the smell of pesto, basil, and the fire from candles surrounding her. “Open.”

The kitchen of their moderately-sized room was lit by a swath of candles, a splash of roses in the center of the table and dinner plated, steam rising from it.

“Oh, Fitz,” Jemma said softly, fingers squeezing his gently as she stepped forward, chest warm and fuzzy. “You did this?”

“I had help,” he replied, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, cheeks pinking as Jemma moved to his side, pressing her lips to the red skin. “It’s been a long week and I figured we needed a date night of our own.”

“It’s perfect,” Jemma said, arms wrapping around his neck as her fingers laced through the hair at the back of his neck, smiling up at him. She pecked his lips, nose brushing against his. “You’re perfect.”

“Nah, think you mean you are,” he answers, fingers coming up to brush a curl out of her eyes, fingers soft against her skin. “C’mon, let’s eat before it gets cold.”


	47. Jemma/Bobbi; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Stay there. I’m coming to get you.” + platonic Jemma/Bobbi

“Jemma?”

“Bobbi?” Jemma’s voice is small and slightly slurred, and Bobbi sits up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Lance shifts beside her, mumbling in his sleep; she rubs his shoulder softly before she carefully slips from the bed, moving to the bathroom. She flicks on the overhead light as she shuts the door, moving to sit on the closed toilet seat.

“Jemma, where are you?” Bobbi asked, and she heard a loud burst of laughter before Daisy’s excited voice shouted something in the background.

“We went to a party. Could you come get us? Daisy can’t drive,” Jemma sounds drunk, and Bobbi rubs at the tension headache settling in between her eyes as she sighs. She’d made her little sister promise that she’d call if she ever needed a ride- their apartment wasn’t far from where Jemma was going to school. She just hadn’t expected to be called at three thirty in the morning.

“Where’s the party?” she asks, and Jemma rattles off the address after a moment before she hears a loud ‘c’mon girl!’ from the background and a round of laughter. “Stay there, Jemma. I’m coming to get you.”

She hangs up once Jemma promises before she moves back to the bedroom, the light spilling in the room from the bathroom waking her husband. “Bloody hell, Bob, it’s three am.”

“Jemma needs me,” she answers simply, shrugging as she slips on a pair of jeans. “She’s going to sleep on the couch, and I’m assuming Daisy’ll be taking the floor.”

“Want me to come?” Hunter asks, but his eyes are already slipping closed again, sleep slurring his speech. Bobbi smiles fondly, coming over to press a kiss to his cheek.

“Go back to sleep,” she murmurs, tugging the blanket back up over his torso before she headed to the kitchen, looking for the car keys.

She makes it to the house Jemma had given her the address too, lips downturning at the amount of people milling around outside, hip hip music slipping from the brightly lit house. She parks, locks the car, and begins the process of finding her baby sister, phone to her ear as she winced at the sheer volume of noise radiating off the party.

“Bobbi!” she turns at the sound of her name, relief sagging her shoulders as Jemma stumbled towards her; she caught her when she tripped, hugging her tightly. “I’m so glad you came.”

“I will always come get you, Jemma,” she replied softly, rubbing her back before pulling away. “Where’s Daisy? The living room floor is calling your names.”

“Babs!” Daisy called out, arms around the shoulders of two boys as they walked her towards Bobbi and Jemma, her face split in a grin at the nickname she knew Bobbi hated. “Meet my new friends! This is Trip, and this is Lincoln.”

“Thank you for delivering her to us safely, boys,” Bobbi said, and Trip tipped an invisible hat towards her while Lincoln mock-bowed; Daisy giggled as Bobbi wrapped an arm around her, guiding both girls towards her car. Jemma curled up in the passenger seat while Daisy sprawled across the backseat; both were asleep by the time she pulled up to her apartment, and she shook her head fondly. “Oh you are gonna be so much fun when you wake up.”


	48. Philinda; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Close your eyes and hold out your hands." + philinda

“Where on earth are you taking me, Phil?”

“Just follow me.”

Melinda rolls her eyes, but allows Phil to continue to lead her through the winding halls of the Playground; everyone has long since gone to bed, but she’d been helping Phil with the mound of paperwork cluttering his desk, time slipping away from them without her knowledge.

Things had been different between them since his return from the planet where Simmons had been trapped for so long. Phil was different, and so was she; their friendship was still being repaired, but sometimes she’d catch him looking at her from the corner of her eye with a look on his face like he still couldn’t believe she was back and it’d make her heart thump painfully in her chest. She didn’t quite know how to convince him she was there to stay.

Phil stops a few feet from the entryway to one of the living areas and turns to her, he scratches the back of his neck with his new hand and she swallows, shifting her weight from one foot to the other.

“Close your eyes and hold out your hands,” he requests softly; she frowns, confused, but does as he asks, catching the glimpse of his lips curling into a smile before her eyes shut. The contrast of his warm skin in one hand and soft leather on the other makes her shiver, and Phil leads her forward, guiding her to step down into the living room.

It smells like melted chocolate and cinnamon, and she sniffs, trying to pinpoint the scent as Phil halts her progress, his hands soft at her waist. “Open.”

When she opens her eyes, her lips part in surprise, cheeks flushing as she gazes around the room.

Christmas lights are strung across the room, the soft, colored glow casting over the entire space. The television was lit up with the menu screen of It’s A Wonderful Life, and on the table were two steaming mugs of cocoa, a can of whipped cream and a cup of cinnamon sticks between them. “Oh, Phil…”

“Merry Christmas, Lin,” he replies softly, and she turns to look at him, eyes uncharacteristically watery. She crosses the space between them, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him tightly; his hands come to wrap around her back, holding her to him almost instantly, and she burrows into his embrace, face pressed to his neck.

“Merry Christmas, Phil,” she whispers against his skin, lips brushing over his jawline. She feels him smile, and the hollow place inside her shrinks a little at the warmth of his embrace.


	49. Philinda; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> philinda + i almost lost you

She finds him, ironically enough, trying to patch up his own wounds.

“We have this stuff for a reason,” she quotes back at him, holding up the tube of ointment and cotton swabs, and his face softens into a half-smile as he shrugs at her. She nudges him gently until he sits in a chair and she helps him take off his jacket, frowning when he winces.

There are a few serious cuts on his arms and she dabs the ointment onto them, covering them with the bandages she’d grabbed. They sit in silence, but for the first time in a long time it isn’t uncomfortable. She can still feel his arms around her and his stubble against her cheek, the scent of dirt and sweat and sand clinging to him.

“You can tell me anything,” she says softly after a few moments, avoiding his eyes as she tilts his head up, rubbing the ointment on a cut under his chin. “You know that, right?”

“Of course I do, May,” he answers just as softly, catching her hands carefully in his and squeezing gently until she looks at him. His blue eyes are dark but open, lips curled into that little half-smirk she loves so much, and her breath catches in her chest because she _almost lost him again_.

She’s shocked when her vision blurs, the hot rush of tears against the back of her eyes spilling over as she hears Phil say her name in such a heartbroken voice. She collapses, feeling Phil catch her and tug her into his lap as a sob rips from her throat. His arm is warm around her back, the fingers of his remaining hand soothing against her cheek as she lets herself cry- really cry- for the first time in too long.

“I almost lost you,” is the first thing she says after the tears are gone, a tiny hiccup leaving her as she moves her head from under his chin, wiping at the wetness on her cheeks. “I can’t do that again Phil. _I can’t_.”

“Melinda…” she cuts Phil off with a finger against his lips that shifts to her palm cupping his cheek as she leans forward until their foreheads are touching, breath mingling and noses brushing as they both sighed.

“You’re the one thing I can’t live without,” she admits in a soft murmur and she feels his arms come around her, holding her closer. “Please don’t make me have to.”

“I’ll always come back,” is his quiet reply, soothing the aching gap inside her. “You’re my home. And I’ll always come home.”


	50. Philinda; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things you said when we were the happiest we ever were + philinda

“What’re you still doing up?” he turns at the voice in the doorway of his office, file still in hand; Melinda moves through the open doorway to stand by his side, glancing at the paperwork he has. “Ward’s file? Again?”

“I thought it might help,” he said, exhaustion in his voice as he rubs at the skin between his eyes. Melinda’s hands touch his shoulders and he leans into her.

“Sleep will help,” she murmurs, chin on his shoulder as her hands trail down his arms. “I’ve been waiting for you to come to bed for nearly an hour. Time to stop being Director for a little while.”

“Director mode off,” he replies softly, dropping the file on his desk and twining his fingers through hers, letting her tug him gently towards the door and into the hall. “Someone could see.”

“It’s nearly two am, Phil. Normal people are asleep,” she said as they walked, naturally slowing to the same pace as her arm slid around his waist to be closer to him. “And…maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. People seeing.”

“Is that…something you’d be comfortable with?” he asked carefully as they made their way to his room where she’d essentially spent every night for the last six months. While they’d taken their relationship beyond professional into intimacy, they’d kept it strictly behind closed doors.

Melinda shrugged, unlocking the door and leading him inside, tugging her shirt over her head once he’d shut it behind them. “I’m tired of keeping something that makes me happy a secret.”

Phil’s hands touched her back, and she turned to look at him at his gentle insistence, and standing there in her bra and black pants it strikes him that this is the longest stretch of time he’s been consistently happy, and it’s entirely to do with the woman standing here in his arms. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?”

“Yeah, but I could stand to hear it again,” Melinda said, lips curling into a smile as her arms slipped around his waist, slipping into the back pockets of his pants. He smirked, leaning down until his forehead touched hers, noses brushing as his lips parted.

“I love you very, very much, Melinda May,” he murmured, lips brushing over hers as he spoke, and she sighed in contentment, eyes slipping shut.

“As you should,” is all she can get out before his lips cover hers.


	51. Philinda; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> philinda + mamihlapinatapei

“You could have gotten killed,” his voice is hard as he helps her up onto the medbay table, eyes on her bleeding arm as she winces.

“It’s just a graze,” she replies, watching him avoid her gaze as he gently wipes away the blood with wet gauze.

“It’s the third graze in a month,” is his sharp answer, and her lips quirk into a frown. “You can’t keep throwing yourself into danger headfirst, May.”

“It’s part of the job description,” she starts gently, and Phil shakes his head as he wraps the bandage around her arm, his touch careful on her skin.

“We have an entire team now- it’s not just you and me anymore, and you know that,” he says, finally looking up at her, his blue eyes dark and unreadable.

“And I have to keep them safe,” is all she can respond with, voice barely above a whisper; she watches the column of Phil’s throat as he swallows, his hands still on her, burning her wherever they touched.

“And I need you to be safe,” he finally manages to get out, unable to tear his eyes from hers as her lips part, caught off guard by the admittance. “I’ve already lost so much, Melinda…I can’t lose you too. Do you understand?”

Her breath catches in her throat, and she nods, hands coming up to grip his suit lapels; he was so close she could smell the mint from the gum he’d been chewing and the faint tang of sweat in the air. Her eyes stayed locked with his; it was a conversation without words, one it felt like they’d been having for years, always dancing around the final answer.

“Phil…” her voice was barely a whisper; a breath of air passing her lips and hitting him in the center of his chest, and she watched his own breathing hitch as his hand slid down to grip her hip. Her own hands slid up his chest until one cupped his jaw and the other twined with the hair at the base of his neck. They shifted together, drawn to each other in a way they’d never been able to deny, their eyes never leaving each other’s.

The first kiss is a product of mutual movement; barely a brush of lips together as they sigh, sinking into each other. The rasp of his stubble against the sensitive skin of her chin sends tingles down her spine, and his fake hand spans the length of her back, holding her against him as their kiss becomes deeper.

They melt together; hips meeting as he tugs her closer, tongue brushing along her lower lip until she opens with a soft moan. Her lips curl into a smile at the groan he gives in return, and they ease out of the kiss until their foreheads are pressed together, matching smiles on their faces.

“Finally,” comes from somewhere behind Phil, and both look up to find Daisy walking out of the medbay, phone in hand. “Fitz owes me _so_ much money.”


	52. Philinda; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> finding the other wearing their clothes + philinda

They studiously avoid talking about his “death”. It’s an open wound neither of them can quite begin to mend just yet, despite how long it’s been since he came back.

But it doesn’t change that Melinda went to his funeral, that she boxed up things in his apartment, that she got drunk on his scotch and cried in his shirt and smashed the pictures of them that had sat proudly on his mantle. It doesn’t change the aching loss she felt before Fury showed up, reading her into Project Tahiti. It doesn’t change that for those few days, Melinda thought her best friend was dead.

In the days following Phil’s return from the blue planet and the death of Ward and Jemma’s Will, Melinda feels him pulling away. He retreats to his office, skips meals, and barely speaks to anyone. And she lets him have his space despite wanting to help him.

She’s making tea in her pajamas, the sun not even having risen yet, when she hears footsteps; she turns, unable to hide her surprise when Phil walks into the kitchen in his own pajamas. “You’re up early.”

“Does it count if I’m awake without having coffee?” he asks, and Melinda hides her smile in her mug, leaning back against the counter as she watches Phil start the coffee maker. He pulls out two frying pans as it begins to percolate; she watches as he digs through the fridge, pulling out ingredients. “How does omelets sound?”

“As long as you’re doing the cooking. I’ll watch, that way nothing burns,” Melinda says, and Phil laughs, laying the bacon out on the pan. He turns to look at her, lips curled into an amused half-smile that falters in surprise once he gets a good look at her.

“Is that my shirt?” he asks, voice a little hoarse, and Melinda looks down, caught off guard. It was one of the shirts she’d stolen after his death; she’d taken to sleeping in them, liking that they were a few sizes too big and still faintly smelled like Phil’s cologne, even after all this time.

“Well. Yeah,” she finally says, looking up at him with a soft shrug.

“I was wondering where it had gone. I couldn’t find it when I was packing,” he says softly, coming to stand beside her, fingers coming to tug lightly at the hem.

“I took it. After your funeral,” she replies, voice small, eyes on her mug of tea. “It smelled like you and all I could think about was how the last time you wore it was when I brought pizza over to watch the Clippers game and you spilled beer everywhere when they scored that three pointer right after the buzzer.”

She smiles faintly at the memory, thumb brushing along the rim of her mug. “It felt like that was the first time I’d seen you smile in years,” she looks up at the sound of his voice, meeting his eyes. “I never wanted that night to end. I’d miss seeing you happy so much, Lin.”

“I almost didn’t leave,” she confesses, voice soft. “I thought about telling you how much you meant to me that night, but then you mentioned how you were going on a date with the cellist from the coffee shop, and I knew I couldn’t. You deserved to be with someone who wasn’t broken like I was. Who you could make a future with.”

“I’m making a future with you,” is all he says when she looks up at him again; his hand comes up to touch her cheek, palm against his skin as she leans into his touch. “You mean a lot to me, Melinda. A lot. I’m ready to take that step if you are.”

“I think we’ve waited long enough,” she replies, and his smile is all at once brilliant and blinding as he leans down to finally, _finally_ kiss her.


	53. Peggy/Daniel; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> forehead or cheek kisses + peggy/daniel

The quiet din of a late night at the hospital is broken only by the steady squeak of a crutch against the linoleum; Peggy smiles from her position in the bed, unable to take her eyes off the small bundle in her arms, only hours old. “Your father makes such a racket, doesn’t he?”

“I heard that,” Daniel said as he walked into the room, shutting the door behind him he moved over to the bed. Peggy moved so he could sit beside her, leaning into him as he wrapped an arm around her. “He’s perfect, Peg.”

“I think we’re quite good at this,” she replied, looking up at him with a sly smile, he looks at her for a moment before he’s unable to keep a grin from his face, tossing his head back with a laugh. The baby in Peggy’s arms squirmed, two tiny arms pushing their way out of the blankets as his face scrunched up. “Did we wake you, darling? It’s alright, it’s just your Mummy and Daddy, no reason to cry, Michael.”

Their son quieted at Peggy’s voice, looking up at them curiously with wide blue eyes. Daniel’s chest caught at the reminder that this was their son- their child that they’d made together. “I still say he looks like you, Peg.”

“He has your ears,” she murmured fondly, fingers brushing over said ears as she gazed at Michael, unable to look away. “He’s going to look just like his father when he grows up.”

Daniel hides his smile in her hair, turning his head to press a kiss to her cheek, nose nudging hers affectionately. He felt her cheek twitch as she smiled, tilting her head until their mouths met, soft and warm as she sighed contentedly. “I rather love you, you know.”

“Yeah, you’re alright,” Daniel replies, amused, and Peggy snorts inelegantly, fondness in her gaze as she lifts her free hand up to cup his cheek, thumb brushing over his bottom lip. “You should get some sleep. I can hold him for a little while.”

Peggy nodded, wincing slightly as she sat up, transferring Michael from her arms into Daniel’s; he held him against his chest carefully, his warm, soft weight reassuring against him. “You did good, Peg,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss her forehead as she closed her eyes, settling against the pillows. He carefully sat back in the chair next to her bedside, Michael drowsy and content in his arms as Peggy fell asleep, a few errant curls falling across her forehead.

“You’ve got the best mom in the world, kid,” Daniel murmured softly as he rocked Michael, his son blinking up at him sleepily. “She’d do anything in the world to keep you safe- and I mean that literally. We’re a lucky bunch of guys, you and I.”

He could have sworn he saw Peggy’s lips twitch up into a smile at his words, but he dismissed it as a trick of the dim lighting.


	54. Peggy/Daniel; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> peggydaniel + slow dancing in the kitchen in the refrigerator light

“You’re home late,” Peggy jumps at the voice, earning herself a low laugh from her husband as she looks up from where she was rummaging through the fridge. “Some spy you are.”

“Says the man who retired two weeks ago,” she replies primly, feeling Daniel’s arms wrap around her waist, his chin finding her shoulder. The newest prosthetic allows him to walk without the use of his crutch most times, but it causes him debilitating back pain, and she’d spent the better part of the last month he’d been wearing it terrified something would go wrong. It had prompted a discussion about how much he was working, and lead to Daniel admitting he felt it was time to retire.

She feels him sigh, and he shrugs against her, arms still strong as they held her after all these years. “It’s almost midnight. I thought the Director of SHIELD was allowed to leave before dark on Friday nights.”

Peggy winces, hands falling to wrap around his where they touch her waist. “We were supposed to have dinner.”

“I cancelled the reservation when Nick called,” he replies quietly, and she winces again, turning to face him, still locked in his tight embrace. She touched his face, full of lines she’d memorized over the years.

“I’m so sorry, darling, it completely slipped my mind, I was helping Melinda with a mission report-” she stops at Daniel’s gentle head shake, taking a deep breath and sinking into him. After a few moments of silence, Daniel began to sway them, and Peggy looked at him, eyes soft with amusement and a question. “Dancing? Really?”

“Why not?” is all he asks in reply, one hand drifting to grip her waist as the other tugged her hand out, moving them into position. Dancing had never been something they’d been able to do until new models of prosthetic had been developed, and Peggy couldn’t even begin to describe how much joy she found in moving with her husband.

“There’s no music, we’re in the kitchen, and the fridge is still open,” she answers without hesitation, and Daniel shakes his head again, still smiling. He begins to hum, then sings under his breath.

“You think that I don’t love you,” his voice is low and sweet, breath warm against her ear, and she leans into him, head resting on his shoulder as they sway quietly in the darken kitchen, illuminated only by the single bulb of the refrigerator. “But I do.”

She presses a kiss to his pulse point, and sways to the tune of her husband’s voice.


	55. Philinda; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We’re in the middle of a thunderstorm and you wanna stop and feel the rain?” + philinda

The pounding rain deafens all other noise in the car; it echoes off the room and makes talking almost impossible- the beat of the radio is barely discernible through the repetitive drumming of the drops. Phil’s fingers tap out a nonsensical rhythm against the steering wheel, and Melinda sighs. Another funeral for another agent lost in the field; it leaves the air between them melancholy and tense, their own close call in the back of their minds.

A miscommunication in the field had lead to Phil getting a graze to his upper arm and the cold shoulder from Melinda; they’d been discussing a weekend away and missed the second sniper on the top floor. Phil was fine, and he’d told her so, but she still had taken a step back from the personal relationship in the wake of his injury.

They’re passing a park when Melinda suddenly turned to him, touching his arm. “Stop the car.”

Phil looks at her in confusion, but does as she says; she’s out the door the moment the car’s in park, careless of the rain. He scrambles to get out of the car and follow her, his suit getting soaked as he trails behind her. She’s in an uncharacteristic dress- all of her suits were at the dry cleaners, she’d told him in annoyance- and the damp, dark fabric clinging to her legs as she twirled to face him. “Lin, it’s a thunderstorm. We should get back in the car!”

“Let’s live a little!” Melinda called back, dark hair drenched and falling in uneven ringlets around her face. The smile she gives him is infectious, and he shakes his head fondly, coming to stand with her under a small grove of trees, shading them from the worst of the storm. “I’m sorry for being so distant, this week. I just don’t know what I’d ever do if I lost you.”

“I can’t promise I’ll never get hurt. But I’ll never willingly leave you,” Phil tells her, fingers coming up to brush her wet hair out of her face, thumb cupping her cheek. “I love you, Melinda. You’re my partner. You always will be.”

Thunder clapped, and Melinda smiled, and the cold they both got a few days later was worth it.


	56. Philinda; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I almost lost you.” + philinda

She’s pacing the med bay by the time Phil stumbles in, leaning heavily on Mack as his mouth drips blood. He’s covered in plaster dust, his once-pristine suit wrinkled and ripped near his shoulders, and he’s coughing, voice raspy, but he’s alive, and she feels the worry that had been squeezing her heart finally lessen.

“Get him on the bed,” she says, helping Mack move Phil, ignoring the protests her own body gave at the movement. She nodded the taller man away to go help others as she started to patch Phil up, nudging him to drink the glass of water she put in his hands as she attended to the minor cuts and scrapes covering his skin.

“May,” Phil says after a moment, voice still hoarse but not nearly as much, and Melinda shushes him gently, wiping away the blood on his lower lip. His fingers caught her wrist, squeezing, and she looked at him in concern. “It was Daisy.”

“I know,” is all she replies with, voice soft but laced with the pain they shared. She brushed the dust from his hair, hands light on his skin as they settled on his neck, and she watched pain flicker over Phil’s face as he swallowed, his hand gripping her waist lightly. “I almost lost you. Again.”

His grip tightened for a moment, and she swallowed, nails digging into his skin lightly. “I can’t do it again, Phil. Not- not now.”

Phil’s lips parted, but before he could speak, Melinda leaned forward, kissing him. He froze, startled for a moment, before he sank into the embrace; it tasted like dust and blood and war, but somehow that made it that much more real. Their life was dust and blood and war.

Maybe together, it wouldn’t be so bad.


	57. Philinda; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> philinda + Petrichor

Melinda had always loved thunderstorms, ever since she was a child. She’d loved the crackle of electricity in the air, the clap of thunder, the smell of rain against pavement, the damp leaves that touched her shoulders as she ran through the drops.

As she’d grown older, she’d come to the realization that her life was similar to a thunderstorm; unpredictable, devastating, and lonely. She’d watched the things she’d spent her life wanting slip away from her, powerless to stop them from disappearing.

Phil was her calm in the storm. He was her safe port from the violence of the rain, and when she allowed it, the shelter she so desperately craved.

The crackle of angry energy from the Berserker staff still flickered beneath her skin and across her bones, situating itself inside her muscles and throughout her veins. She felt the tremble of her fingers before she clenched them into fists; the desire to release the anger through the punching bag welling up inside her.

Phil’s palms are warm and calloused against her skin when he touches her, and she shivers at the contact, lips parting. “Let me help,” he whispered, voice low and rough, scratching over the uneven parts inside of her until heat raced across her skin, warring with the angry electricity left over from the staff.

She answers when she kisses him; he tastes like the fresh air after a spring rain, clean and whole and everything she’s not.


	58. Philinda; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a. philinda. 5. slow dancing in the kitchen in the refrigerator light

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> miscarriage tw

He’s not surprised to wake up at three in the morning to an empty bed.

Melinda doesn’t sleep much- hasn’t since they lost the baby they’d been trying so hard to conceive. Years of being in the field, various injuries, and a couple of gunshot wounds had all added up to a less-than-likely chance they’d be able to have a baby, but against the odds, they’d gotten pregnant.

Six blissful weeks of happiness; his wife smiling, the house full of excitement and happiness. Until the night she’d woken up to a pool of blood and excruciating cramps. Until the night everything they’d been dreaming of had been ripped from their fingers just as they’d gotten used to holding them.

He climbs out of bed, rubbing the last of sleep from his eyes, and goes to find his wife. She’s not upstairs- he closes the half-open door to the nursery, unable to look at the half-assembled items they’d foolishly bought too early. The living room is also empty, but the light in the kitchen coming from the open fridge alerts him to where she’d taken refuge.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asks quietly; Melinda shrugs, staring unblinkingly into the depths of their rather bare fridge. “We could talk about it.”

“I don’t want to talk, Phil,” she answers tiredly, her loose sweater swamping her lithe frame. He swallows, head dipping, and tries not to let her words hurt as much as they do.

“I’ll be upstairs, then,” he replies in a tone that’s just as tired, and he’s turning to go as he feels thin fingers against his wrist. He pauses, waiting, and Melinda’s fingers slip into his in a hesitant grasp. He turns to face her and she slips under his chin, her loose arm wrapping around his waist.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers as they sway gently, cool air coming from the open refrigerator and wisping around them. “I miss her. We didn’t even get to meet her and I miss her.”

“I know,” Phil murmurs into her hair, his palm spanning her back. “I miss her too, Lin.”

“I just really wanted to be her mom,” she said in a broken voice after a moment, their swaying stopping as she finally broke down, tears sliding down her cheeks. “I was finally going to be a mom.”

Phi holds her as she cries, sinking to the floor with her as the dance they’ve choreographed these last few weeks finally comes to a halt on their kitchen floor.


	59. Philinda; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.” + philinda

He finds her on the roof.

For once, they have a moment to breathe; a moment to collect themselves, lick their wounds, and live to fight another day. Hive is dead, the Kree are gone for the moment, and Daisy is back, free of the alien mind control. She would need time to heal; time to come to terms with what she’d done to Mack, the things she’d said- the loss of Lincoln, quick and sudden at the hands of Hive himself.

The sun is just about to set, casting pinkish orange light across the landscape. Melinda’s dressed in a pair of tight black pants and a soft navy shirt, arm in a sling. Her face bore an array of cuts and bruises, her lip split and swollen, but she was alive. He wasn’t much better- his leg still ached and he had a few cracked ribs, but they were here. They were still standing.

“It’s beautiful,” he murmurs as he comes to sit beside her, letting the cane rest against the railing. She nods, trying to wipe discreetly under her eyes, but the movement aggravates her still-healing body, and he reaches for her instinctively. “Want to talk about it?”

She’s quiet for a moment, just watching the sunset, before she turns to him, eyes dark but deep, searching him. He just looks back at her, content in the silence as long as he’s next to her, until she finally speaks. “I think I’m in love with you and I’m terrified.”

Phil’s lips part in shock before he can stop himself- his hand finds hers, holding tight, using her as an anchor in the most natural way possible. Melinda swallows, looking down at their fingers. “The moment Hive stood between you and Lincoln, as though debating which one of you to take- in that moment I saw myself losing you and Phil I couldn’t breathe. I can’t…I can’t lose you again without you knowing what you mean to me.”

“Lin…” Phil starts, but Melinda cuts him off with a shake of her head, squeezing his fingers.

“I love you, Phil. I have loved you for a very long time, but I’ve always been too scared to say anything- too scared to break the rules, too scared you didn’t feel the same way, too scared to let myself be that happy again. But I can’t lose you, and I can’t hide how I feel anymore because- because life is so fleeting. We’ve danced around this for so long. Isn’t it time to just let ourselves be happy for whatever we have left?” she asked, finally looking up at him, eyes damp with tears but bright with joy in a way he hadn’t seen in nearly a decade. “We both deserve to be happy Phil, after everything we’ve lost.”

“We’ve never lost each other,” he whispers, reaching a hand up to cup her face, thumb brushing away the tears beneath her eyes. “I love you, Melinda. I always have. Ever since the Academy.”

Melinda’s lips curl into a vibrant, breathtaking smile- he can’t help but mirror it as he draws her in; their foreheads connect moments before their lips do. It’s a kiss that spans decades and battlefields and death and time itself- it’s not a first kiss, it’s not a last kiss; it was a promise that for whatever life they had left, they’d face it together.

Side by side, just like always.


	60. Tripskye; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tripskye and bedsharing troupe

“Okay when I agreed to accompany you on this road trip, I do not remember agreeing to sharing a crappy motel mattress too,” Daisy says with a grimace as they open the door to the only motel with a free room. The van had broken down- a split axle, and the only repair shop in the small, backwoods town they were in had to order the part in on overnight shipping.

The motel is a little seedy, but Daisy had thought to pack extra sheets for their trip, and they had their own pillows. The bed, however, is a barely-passable full bed, and Daisy’s choice of pajamas are a pair of tiny silk sleep shorts and a thing tank top that didn’t even hit her midriff.

She and Trip aren’t _dating_ , per se, but they’ve hooked up after a few drinks before, and she likes the feeling of his hand in hers when they study together, and she had agreed to go on a random, last minute road trip with the guy because his smiles makes her stomach twist in the best way and when he sings she can’t help but laugh and sing along too.

“Afraid you won’t be able to resist me, sunshine?” Trip asks, giving her a wink as she rolls her eyes; she sets up her laptop and within moments the small room is bouncing with some catchy pop tune as she and Trip strip the bed. She sprays the mattress covered in questionable stains with a thick layer of Fabreeze, and while that dries, she sends Trip into the bathroom with bleach and a pair of thick rubber gloves while she gathered the fabrics together to go wash.

Trip exits the bathroom with a grimace, the smell of bleach almost overpowering, and Daisy can’t help but laugh as they make the bed together, the pink and yellow flowers on the cream sheets contrasting with the otherwise dark-themed room. Once everything else is cleaned up and Daisy’s playlist has switched to something calmer, a jazzy instrumental selection, they collapse onto the bed together, elbows bumping before they turned to face each other, noses inches apart.

“What now?” Trip asks, his voice tired; it had been a long day of driving even before the axle broke, and he’d had to handle most of the paperwork, since he was the one who knew what he was doing. She reaches up, thumb brushing over his cheek gently as his eyes drifted closed. Her own eyes felt heavy, and she rolled onto her back, sighing as she tried to get comfortable.

She was just on the knife-edge of sleep when she felt warmth spread across her bare abdomen; she pried sleep-locked eyes open to find Trip pulling her closer. She hummed, letting him tug her in until her back was flush against his broad chest. Warmth suffused her, and she drifted off to sleep surrounded by the scent of musk and sunshine and contentment.


	61. Philinda; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> philinda and tarantism

Melinda May has not been having a good day.

Someone had used the last of the tea her mother had given her the last time she’d visited, her favorite pen had run out of ink, the wash had shrunk her last good pair of yoga pants, she’d misplaced the necklace Phil had given her when they’d graduated from the Academy, and Daisy hadn’t shown up for their scheduled work out. She was moody and off balance, scowling at the open fridge in front of her as she tried to decide what to make for dinner.

“That’s a bigger frown than I’ve seen in weeks,” comes a soft voice behind her, and she turns to find Phil leaning against the dining table.

“Today sucks,” she growls, and this time Phil smiles, arms folded over his chest. He hasn’t gone back to his suits; he’d been reinstated as Director for a few weeks (something she was grateful for- seven months was more than long enough for her to be Director, he could keep it), but he’d kept his appearance rather casual when they were around base. Dark jeans and a tight navy button-up accented his biceps, and she couldn’t help but notice how well he’d kept himself in shape while he’d been away.

“Want me to make you a grilled cheese? Those always made your day better at the Academy,” he says, and she nods, suddenly unable to think about anything but melty cheese and crunchy bread. “We even have sourdough bread, and that Merlot I’ve kept hidden gives me an opportunity to try out a new recipe I think you’re gonna like.”

Melinda settled at the table as Phil rolled up his sleeves, getting out ingredients and grabbing pans; he flicked on the radio, finding a station playing old, soft jazz. She hides her smile in the glass of wine he gives her as his hips move to the rhythm while he hums softly, soaking the bread in the wine before placing it in the ban with a mixture of cheeses also soaked in the purple liquid.

“C’mere,” he says with an outstretched hand after everything’s in the pan over low heat. “It’ll take a couple minutes.”

“Phil…” she protests weakly, but she takes his hand, letting him pull her to her feet. One hand wraps around hers while the other finds her waist, tugging her until her hips touched his. She inhaled at the feel of him, warm and hard and yet somehow yielding against her.

“Dance with me?” he requested softly, eyes alight as they traced her face, the blue of his irises cerulean and beautiful. She just nods, her own lips fighting the urge to curve in a smile as they began to move together.

The jazz music flows around them as Phil moves them in a circle, keeping Melinda’s body close to him, hips swaying. It’s natural with Phil; she’s not a fan of dancing, but she finds her mood lifting as they twirl around the tiny space the kitchen allows. She’s outright smiling at the end of the song, wrapped in Phil’s arms, and she doesn’t even question the urge she feels to kiss him; she just leans up until their lips meet, soft and sweet and easy as breathing.

“Thank you,” she murmured, free hand stroking over his cheek, thumb brushing the apple of his cheek. Phil just smiles, squeezing her hip as he lets her go to check on her sandwich, plating a gorgeous mess of cheese and bread and wine.

Melinda takes a single bite and practically moans in contentment, eyes sliding shut as her head tilts back. “This is heaven.”

Phil’s laugh is loud and warm, filling the kitchen, and Melinda can’t help but think that every bad day should have an ending like this.


	62. Philinda; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> philinda + marry me?

The reception is beautiful, but that’s unsurprising. Fitz and Simmons twirl around the dance floor in yet another husband and wife dance, fairy lights shimmering over the dance floor and a soft, slow song playing in the background.

The cottage in Perthshire is small but gorgeous, covered in ivy and surrounded by flowers. The ceremony had been simply but elegant, both scientists opting to say their own vows. It had taken so many years, but their small family couldn’t be happier that Fitzsimmons was married.

“Daisy spiked the punch,” Phil said as he sat back down next to Melinda; she snorted, shaking her head fondly as she leaned into the arm he wrapped around her shoulders. Mack pulled Elena onto the floor; his wife protested, her seven-month pregnant belly between them as he kissed her forehead, swaying them to the music.

“They look so happy,” she murmured, head resting against Phil’s as she laced their fingers together. On the floor, Fitz tugged his new wife even closer, their foreheads pressed together as their noses brushed, and Melinda felt Phil’s lips against her temple.

“They’ve waited a long time for this,” he replied softly, lips moving to touch Melinda’s neck, nose brushing her jaw. He pauses, breath warm on her skin, before he speaks again. “Marry me, Melinda.”

She inhales sharply, breath leaving her chest as her fingers tightened around his. He felt the muscles in her jaw move as she smiled before she turned her head to meet his, lips millimeters apart. “We can’t get engaged on Fitzsimmons’ wedding day. Ask me tomorrow.”

“Will you say yes?” he asked, unable to hold back the smile; she rolls her eyes, replying before her lips pressed against his.

“Your chances are pretty good.”


	63. Philinda; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> philinda + sorry

“I know, I’m late,” she says softly, flowers clutched in her hand, cellophane crinkling. It’s cold and rainy, but since she’d skipped the funeral, she’d had to come.

The headstone is too clean and too new and it shouldn’t exist; if she’d been there, if she’d still been his partner, if everything was different, he’d be alive and laughing at her with that smile he’d reserved just for her. But she was hiding behind a desk, pretending she wasn’t the specialist she’d trained as for so many decades, and he was dead.

“I’m so sorry Phil,” she whispered, unable to stop the tears that well up in her eyes, burning hot. “I should have been there. I should have been your partner.”

She takes a breath, tears streaking down her cheeks as she sets the flowers under his name. The etching is so informal; his name, the years he was born and died. No “loving son, husband, father, friend” adorn it, and pain pierces her heart.

“I miss you. I wish I could tell you that. I’ve missed you for so long,” she murmurs, fingers tracing the letters, stone cold against her skin. “I should never have let you go. I should have never let you let me go. It should have been us.”

She exhales shakily, trying to collect herself before she stands, but all she can think about is how there’s a voicemail from him she’d never listened to and so many phone calls she’d never returned, and how she’d ducked him every time he’d been in town. It’s been months since she’d seen him, accidentally bumping into him at the Triskellion, and a sob leaves her throat when she remembers the look on his face, so happy to see her.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t good enough,” she whispers, but she can hear him in his head telling her _no, it wasn’t you it was never you Lin_ and she cries harder, falling to her knees in the damp grass. “Come back to me, Phil. Please. I need you.”

Her phone vibrates, and she wipes at her eyes as she pulls it out, Fury’s number in the ID. She picks up but doesn’t speak; it’s quiet before Nick talks.

“I need to read you in on Project Tahiti.”


	64. Fitzskye; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things you said under the stars and in the grass + fitzskye (romantic)

“You know you’re missing the party,” Fitz turns at Skye’s voice; she’s got two bottles of beer in her hands and a soft smile on her lips, and he shrugs before he looks back up at the stars. “You left right after May and Coulson’s first husband and wife dance. Everything okay?”

Fitz shrugs, taking the beer from her and taking a swig before he sits down in the grass, uncaring about the stains on his suit. “They’re just so _happy_ , y’know?”

Skye nods, settling beside him as she takes a drink of her own beer, knees brushing. She looks at him curiously, dark eyes wide and bright in the moonlight.

“Sometimes I just…wonder what it’s like. To be that happy,” he finishes with a shrug, thumb brushing over the lip of his beer bottle. “I mean, May smiled more today than I’ve ever seen before. The Cavalry in love.”

“Sounds like a bad Western,” Skye quipped, and Fitz laughs, head thrown back in unexpected amusement. She giggles in reply, nudging her shoulder with his before she rests her chin on her hand, looking at him. Her lips part to speak before she changes her mind, leaning forward until her mouth meets his, soft and sweet.

He’s stunned for a moment, frozen, before he melts into it; his free hand coming up to cup her face, fingers flirting with her hair as his tongue brushes along her lower lip. They part slowly, sharing air, before Skye grins, bright and warm.

“How’s that for happy?”


	65. Brucenat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things you said with too many miles between us + brucenat

He calls her exactly 100 days after he turned off his gps on the jet.

She could have found him. She’s a spy and he tends to leave a trail and it would have been simple to track him down. But they’re adults, and he’d needed space, and she’d taken the time apart to decide what she wanted. And she’d known he’d come to her eventually- when he was ready. They were kindred spirits, after all- she could read him like she could read herself, and there was a comfort in that.

“Hi,” she says softly after a few moments of silence; she recognizes the pattern of his breathing and is suddenly awash with just how much she misses him. She can hear him swallow, and there’s another pause before he speaks.

“ _Natasha_ ,” he breathes, and there’s such a mixture of relief and pain in his tone that it tugs at her heartstrings. It’s a blend of homecoming and exile all at once, because he’s so far away from her but it feels like he’s there with her as she closes her eyes, hand clutched to her chest.

“Come home,” she can’t help but ask, voice barely above a whisper and bordering on fragile in its softness. She knows he can’t- knows he left because he has a mission, and he needs to help Thor; to ease some of the burden on his conscience because of Sokovia.

“Soon,” is all he can promise, but it’s enough.

“Just come back to me,” she requests in a way that brokers no argument, and she can almost hear the muscles in his face contract in a smile. “I miss you, Bruce.”

“You can’t miss me nearly as much as I miss you, Nat,” is Bruce’s quiet reply, heavy and warm through the phone line, and she curls up under the covers with her phone pressed to her ear. It’s almost like he’s there, blanketing her in the bed they share, and she closes her eyes.

“Just talk to me for a bit. Please?” she asks, quietly, and Bruce clears his throat before he starts talking about Thor, and their semi-road trip, and how they’re making their way to Asgard soon. Natasha smiles, a small, precious thing, before she tucks the blanket under her toes, cocooning herself in the covers as she listens to Bruce talk, voice low and soothing in the recycled air of Avengers Tower.

It felt more like home than it had in over 100 days.


	66. Philinda; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things you said with no space between us + philinda

It starts out like a normal day. Or, as normal as it has been since the events of Hive.

Losing Lincoln had taken its toll on the team, Daisy most of all. She shut herself away from everyone, grieving alone and causing the base to tremble with her tears. Everyone was raw, and bleeding, and they all needed time to lick their wounds.

But life moved on, and they still had an agency to run. Slowly their routines started back up; Melinda trained early in the morning again, and she tried to get Daisy to join her. It had been months since they’d trained together- not since before the Iliad. It felt like a lifetime ago.

That morning, Melinda had gone to Daisy’s room, determined to get the younger woman to join her on the mats for a little while. She knew what it was like to wallow in your pain, and she refused to let Daisy lose her life to the sadness she herself had embraced for so long. She knocks on Daisy’s door, but got no response- when she tried to knob it was unlocked, and for some reason her heart lept to her throat.

The room is bare. Gone are the touches Daisy had given it to make it her own- gone is the make up from the dresser top, gone are her clothes and computer, and gone are the pictures Daisy had so painstakingly had Fitz help her frame and hang up on her walls.

She falls to her knees, vision blurring at the emptiness, and she can’t help the soft sob that fills her throat; she’s only alone for a moment before she feels familiar hands grip her arms, Phil’s scent washing over her. “ _She’s gone._ ”

Phil just holds her, there on the floor of what had been Daisy’s room. She can feel his own shoulders shaking, and she loses it; she hasn’t cried like this since the first days post-Bahrain, but here on the SHIELD-standard itchy beige carpet she falls apart in Phil’s arms.

“We’ll find her,” Phil promises, voice thick but fierce, his eyes cobalt in their intensity. “Lin, we will find her, and bring her home.”

“I can’t lose her too,” is all she manages to choke out before he pulls her in closer, head under his chin in the most comforting hug she’s had in weeks. “I know I’m not her mother, but she’s my daughter.”


	67. Skimmons; M

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> skimmons + Lygerastia

Daisy’s back slams against her door as Jemma’s mouth descends to her neck, and the brunette bites back the moan, grabbing the scientist’s ass.

“Jem, we should talk-” Jemma cuts her off with another kiss, short but deep.

“I don’t want to talk,” she replies, undoing the zip of Daisy’s jeans and shoving them down, sinking to the ground with them and kissing Daisy’s hipbones. “You smell so good.”

Daisy lets her head sink back against the wall as Jemma plants kisses to her thighs as she helps her out of her pants, leaving her bare from the waist down. She doesn’t want to stop this, but she needs answers and this has gone on long enough.

“What is this, Jemma?” she finally asks, hands leaving soft auburn curls to rest at her sides, eyes tired. “Is it just sex? Are we not talking when the sun’s up? Because I’m tired of the mixed signals. I’m tired of you not looking at me during the day but coming to fuck me every night until I see stars and then leaving. Just…tell me what this is, so I know what to feel.”

The Brit looks at her from where she’s on her knees, dark eyes wide, unspeaking. Daisy’s eyes close, and she steps away from Jemma, unable to look at her as she tugs on a pair of sweats that are on the floor. She swallows, throat thick, before she finally speaks again.

“I can’t do this anymore. Not when I have feelings but you couldn’t care less. Just…just go, Jem.”

“Of course I care about you, Daisy,” Jemma finally whispers, and Daisy turns to look at her, arms folded tightly over her chest. There are tears in the other girl’s eyes and Daisy swallows, looking at her toes and trying to school her features. “I just…I thought you didn’t want anything serious. I was…well I was trying not to get attached if you were going to walk away.”

“How could you think I would walk away from you? I love you!” Daisy finally admits, unfolding her arms and stepping forward, before her words catch up to her and she stops, lips parting in surprise at herself. Jemma blinks, her own mouth falling open in surprise, before she rushes forward, capturing Daisy’s mouth in her own, hands in her thick brunette curls.

“I love you too,” she says when they part, panting, and Daisy grins, a brilliant, blinding thing that Jemma can’t help but mirror.

“About time,” is all the taller girls says before she kisses Jemma again, dragging her to the bed.


	68. Maria/Melinda; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m sick of being USELESS.” MayHill

Melinda paced the span of the hallway, moving back and forth in frustration; she barely noticed the sound of footsteps until she nearly ran into Maria.

“How is this helping?” the brunette asked, raising an eyebrow as she folded her arms over her chest. Both of them had ditched their shield uniforms; Maria was in a worn shirt that Melinda is 90% sure belonged to Fury, and Melinda had ditched her suit for jeans and a dark long-sleeved sweater.

“I can’t sit still,” Melinda spits out, entire body tense, flexing her fingers in irritation.

“I could give you paperwork to read over, if-” Melinda shook her head as Maria started to speak.

“I’m just sick of being so useless,” Melinda says, finally collapsing in a chair and burying her face in her hands. “He’s…he’s in pain, and I can’t fix this. I can’t help him, Maria.”

“You’re here,” is the brunette’s simple response, sinking into the chair next to her and grasping her hand. Melinda barely flinched, letting Maria comfort her as she exhaled.

“I can’t hear him beg to die anymore,” she whispered, voice thick, and Maria’s fingers tighten around hers. “I need him to live.”

“He will,” Maria replies softly. “He has you.”


	69. Slingquake; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” + daisyelena

When Elena wakes, her surroundings aren’t familiar- she sits upright in a flash before crying out in pain, searing heat flaring from her gut. Her hand grips the bed rail as she cringes, eyes squeezing shut.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, Elena, you’re okay,” the voice that speaks is soothing and familiar, and it takes her a moment before she realizes it’s Daisy. Her shoulders relaxed, tension easing, and she lets Daisy help her back down until her head hits the pillow, and she exhales shakily.

“Where am I?” she asks, her voice hoarse; Daisy grabs the water from the bedside table, and helps her take a sip, the cool liquid a balm against the rough skin of her throat.

“SHIELD med bay,” the brunette tells her, eyes side. “You reopened your stitches- May brought you back here when she saw all the blood.”

“It is like a knife,” Elena says, wincing, and Daisy’s hands fluttered over her abdomen, wanting to help but not wanting to harm.

“Should I get a doctor? Do you need pain meds?” she asked, and Elena shook her head, exhaling slowly until the pain subsided.

“They make me fuzzy,” she answers, before reaching for one of Daisy’s hands and lacing their fingers together. “I am glad you are here, Daisy.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Daisy murmured, fingers tightening around Elena’s, raising her hand until she could rest her cheek against it. “I’m right here.”


	70. Philinda; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things you said after you kissed me + philinda

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” Phil murmurs, his forehead pressed to hers; Melinda smiles, hands rubbing up his back and keeping him close as they shared air.

“Only took you three decades,” she replied softly, and Phil scoffed, thumb gentle as he brushed it over her cheek before sinking it into her hair, pulling her into kiss him again.

“I think we’re right where we’re supposed to be,” he answers when they part again, blue eyes warm and soft as they look at her with none of the barriers he’s had up for years. “So about those boundaries we set all those years ago.”

“Gone,” is Melinda’s simple reply. “They’ve been gone for awhile now- I think we were just too scared to make that first step over them.”

“Not scared anymore,” Phil commented, and Melinda beamed, pulling him into her again.

“Finally,” she whispered against his mouth before kissing him again, letting him tug her further into the room, falling together onto the couch.


	71. Philinda; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> philinda + all I ask

“This sneaking around is starting to get exhausting,” Phil says once Melinda’s let him into her room, the door shut and locked behind him. Melinda’s lips dipped as she came to stand next to him, fingers getting through the buttons of his shirt easily.

“It’s just for a little while,” she reminds him softly, hands on his chest as she looks up at him. She’s free of make up and the armor of her uniform; dressed in one of his old t-shirts and barefoot, she barely reaches his chin. “Daisy is still having a hard time being back, and I don’t want a change like this to send her running again.”

Melinda swallows, eyes shadowed in sadness. “I can’t lose her again, Phil.”

Phil wraps her in a hug, her head fitting under his chin as he rubs her back. “We won’t. I promise.”

“All I’m asking is a little more time, okay? Then we can tell everyone, I promise. It’s not that I’m unhappy, because I’m not. You make me so happy, Phil- I am so happy,” Melinda rushes to assure him, hands on his face, making sure he was looking at her. “I love you, Phil Coulson.”

“I love you too,” is his quiet, warm response; his eyes are soft as he looked at her, holding her against him as he rested his forehead against hers. “Let’s get some sleep.”

Melinda nodded, eyes closed, letting him pull her towards the bed, laughing when he tossed her onto the sheets.

As long as he had this, he’d wait for her forever.


	72. Philinda; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things you said with no space between us + philinda

“You have to take care of yourself, Phil,” Melinda says, eyes looking around the small apartment he and Mack have been camped out in while looking for Daisy. She’d been staying in the Southern California area for a few weeks, though they’d yet to make actual contact.

He’s aware of all the fast food wrappers that littered the apartment, and the empty beer cans in the sink, and the clothes all over the floor. Two men living together wasn’t exactly the most sanitary, especially when they spent most of their time was spent out looking for Daisy, and he’d lost the motivation to cook weeks ago.

“I’m fine, May,” he replies, setting the groceries she’d brought him on the kitchen counter, swallowing at the collection of fresh ingredients she knew he liked when he was cooking dinner.

“You’re not fine,” is Melinda’s reply, eyes hard as she looks at him, arms folded over her chest. “You’ve barely been checking in, and I spend more time talking to Mack than I do you.”

“Is that why you made a field visit yourself, Director?” Phil asks, a harder edge to his voice, and he sees Melinda’s shoulders square, knowing he’s hit a nerve.

“I took the mantel of director so you could go on the wild goose chase, _Agent Coulson_ ,” she spits back, though she’s not quite able to hide the hurt in her face before the walls go up behind her eyes. “I want Daisy back just as you do. Don’t act like I don’t- you don’t get to do that.”

Phil opens his mouth to reply when Melinda cuts him off with a shake of her head.

“No, Phil. I have been trying so hard to let you do this- to let you repent for whatever sins you think you have, to help Daisy because you think you owe her something because of what happened to Lincoln. I know you miss her, and want her back- I know you think of yourself as her father, and you want her safe. I want her safe too. I’m her SO, and you’re right- I do view her as the daughter I never deserved to have,” Melinda starts, swallowing thickly. “But she’s not the only person who needs you. _I_ need you, Phil. _Me_. I sit at home worrying about you every single day, and coming here and seeing this confirms all of my suspicions. You cannot stop caring about yourself.”

Phil just stares at her, gut-punched look on his face as she speaks, before he takes a step closer to her. Melinda looks wary as he comes to takes her hand, but she lets him, shoulders tight.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, free hand coming up to touch her cheek, pushing her hair out of her face. “I’m so sorry, Lin.”

She softens at the old nickname, letting him pull her into him. She sighs, hand coming up to rest against his neck, and a shudder of relief passes through him at the touch.

“I can’t do any of this without you,” she murmurs against the skin of his throat, and his arm wraps around her, tight.

“You don’t have to. I promise,” he replies just as softly, holding her against him, breathing her in.

“Just come home, Phil. Come home with Daisy. Promise me,” she said in a tone that brokered no argument, pulling back to look in his eyes. “Just promise me you’ll come home.”

“As long as you’re there waiting for me,” he answers, and she gives him the smallest smile, leaning forward to kiss him softly.

“I’ll be there,” she replied, hands on his cheeks. “Always.”


	73. Melinda/Steve; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> steve/melinda + Mamihlapinatapei

He’s not surprised to find her in the gym; closing time was nearly an hour ago, but she knew the owner, and today had been a rough day.

She’s in the corner, pounding away at a punching bag; he can see the sweat pouring down her face, and it’s clear she’s been here for awhile. He leans against the door frame, just watching her.

When she starts to slow, he pushes off, walking towards her. When she turns, out of breath and eyes red, he offers her the water bottle in his hand. “Here.”

She takes it without a sound, drinking nearly half of it before she wipes at the sweat dripping from her forehead. “Why’re you here, Steve?”

“Figured you’d be here,” he replies with a shrug. “I’m here if you want to talk, Mel.”

“I don’t want to talk,” Melinda stops him before he can say anything else, capping the water bottle. “I want to punch things.”

“Then hit me,” Steve said as Melinda went to turn back to the punching bag. She whipped around, raising an eyebrow, and Steve spread his arms.

“Hit you?” she asked, incredulous, and Steve nodded, shrugging out of his jacket.

“You need to hit something? Hit me.”

Melinda stares at him for a minute before she sets her stance in front of him, guard up; there’s a pause before she throws the first punch, and Steve barely flinches, so she sets up her rhythm. She gets through a handful of movements before she starts to sob, breath catching in her chest, and she crumples, knees hitting the floor.

Steve has her in his lap in a moment, cradling her against him as she falls apart. “It’s going to be okay, Melinda.”

“It’s not,” she whispers, voice thick with tears. “It’s not going to be okay because the man I loved is dead, but the man I love is holding me right now, and nothing is right.”

Steve just holds her tighter for a moment before he pulls back, fingers under her chin until she looked up at him, tears on her cheeks. “Whatever happens, we’ll be okay, Melinda. I’m not leaving you.”

“You can’t make that promise,” she starts, and Steve shook his head, just looking at her with his deep, warm blue eyes.

“I can make the promise to love you back. That’s the best I can do,” he murmurs, and Melinda just keeps looking at him, lower lip trembling, until she leaned forward, mouth meeting his. It’s warm and soft and Steve holds her like she’s precious, and when new tears stream down her face, they have nothing to do with sadness.


	74. Philinda; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> philinda + in the storm

“It’s not getting any better,” Phil says, squinting out the windshield at the heavily falling rain. Melinda sighs, looking up from her phone, annoyed.

“And there’s no cell service. There was a sign about an inn about a mile back, it should be right up at this next turn,” she replies, and Phil nods. They’re silent as he pulls into the small inn- there are two other cars in the parking lot, and after making the dash through the pouring rain, are glad to see someone still sitting at the front desk.

“Hey there! Trapped in the storm too?” the beaming blonde clerk asked, and Phil nodded, pulling out the alias ID he had on him.

“My wife and I were hoping you had a spare room for the night,” he says, and Melinda takes the cue, stepping a little closer to him, softening her face into a small smile. The clerk’s beam grows, and she makes a few clicks on her keyboard, looking at her screen.

“We do have a spare room left, but unfortunately it’s the honeymoon suite,” she says, biting her lip, and Melinda feels her stomach seize up, but Phil manages to handle the situation smoothly.

“We’ll take it. Make it a romantic getaway,” he says, wrapping an arm around Melinda. The blonde is so distracted signing them in she doesn’t notice the shiver that slides up Melinda’s spine, and she avoids Phil’s gaze as he signs the slip the girl pushes towards them for the credit card charge.

“Here’s your key, and with the room comes an order of strawberries and champagne that will brought up to you in about an hour,” the girl tells them, and they don’t even argue because it’s clearly pointless. “Brunch is served at 10:30 and included in your stay! If you need anything, just give a call down here, my name’s Abby.”

“Thank you, Abby,” Phil said, giving her a smile, and Melinda easily slides her hand into his as they walk away, keycard in hand. Once the elevator doors close, neither of them drop the persona; Melinda moves closer, chin on his shoulder, and Phil’s arm wraps around her waist. “Feel like having a ‘forget about boundaries’ night?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” Melinda said, moving in to kiss him, sighing as his mouth touched hers. “Just check in with Daisy, tell her we’ll get in contact tomorrow afternoon.”

“In a minute,” Phil said, dropping the things in his hands to slide them into her hair, kissing her harder as he backed her into the wall of the elevator. She smiled against his mouth, hands on his back.

“God bless thunderstorms.”


	75. Philinda; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> philinda + being skye's biological parents

“Skye, baby, you’re going to be late for school!” Melinda called up the stairs; her daughter gave a muffled shout Melinda took to mean she was almost ready, and went back to finishing packing her lunch.

“Mel, sit down, I got this,” she looks up at Phil’s voice, his hands gentle against her hips as she sighs, leaning against him.

“If I sit, I’m not getting up,” she tells him, guiding his hand to where their second daughter was kicking, low on her belly. He pressed a kiss to her neck and she sighed, eyes slipping shut. “How much longer?”

“Just five more weeks,” he reminds her, just as Skye barrels down the stairs. “No running in the house, Skye, we’ve told you this.”

“But Daddy I can’t do my hair, it keeps falling out, and I’m gonna miss the bus,” Skye says, practically in tears, and Melinda’s at her side, soothing her before she helped her into one of the chairs at the breakfast bar.

“What do you want today baby girl? Braids? Pigtails? Ponytail?” she asked, and Skye wiped at her eyes, sniffling.

“Can you do pigtail braids, Mommy?” she asked, and Melinda leaned forward, kissing the top of her daughter’s head. She smelled like strawberry shampoo and glitter and little girl, and she breathed in the scent of the six year old.

“Of course I can, Skye,” she murmured, and Phil left to grab Skye’s sneakers while she quickly plaited into two braids that hung down her shoulders. “See? No need to worry, sweetheart.”

“Well, the bus just passed- how about I take you in today, Skye?” Phil said as he came back with Skye’s shoes, offering her a smile. “We can even play the Beauty and the Beast soundtrack if you like, the CD is still in my car.”

“Really Daddy?” Skye asked, giving him a wide smile when he nodded, and she launched herself at him, hugging him tightly as he pressed a kiss to the side of her head.

“I packed your lunch Skye, and we checked your homework last night, so you’re all set for school. Want some toast for the road, or do you think Daddy’ll stop and get you a donut on the way to school?” Melinda asked, giving her husband an amused look when he blushed.

“I want a donut, Daddy- the kind with the sprinkles!” Skye exclaimed, and Melinda shook her head fondly, leaning forward to kiss her daughter.

“Have a good day, Skye. Remember we have gymnastics when you get home today,” she tells her, and Skye nods before wiggling until Phil lets her down. She puts her tiny hands on Melinda’s belly, leaning forward to kiss the bump before resting her forehead against it.

“Have a good day, baby. Be nice to Mommy, okay? She’s the best mommy in the whole entire world,” she says it in a whisper, as though that’ll cause Phil and Melinda not to hear. Melinda just smiles, stroking her daughter’s cheek before she shoos her out with Phil, stopping to give him a thorough kiss goodbye, playing with his tie.

When she’s alone she looks down at her belly thoughtfully, resting her hand on it before she shrugs, half-smiling.

“I totally am the best mommy in the entire world.”


	76. Maydaisy; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> maydaisy + things you said that i wasn’t meant to hear

She is absolutely not eavesdropping. She’s just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

She’s about to walk into the kitchen to get a snack when she hears voices and she freezes, ducking into one of the hidden corners as May and Coulson come into view, pausing in the doorway.

“Phil, just leave it alone,” May is saying softly, her expression the closest to sad Daisy’s ever seen it.

“It means something to you, so no, Melinda, I can’t leave it alone,” Coulson argues, his hand touching her arm; she sighs, leaning into the touch as she looks up at him.

“Daisy is finally home. The team is whole again. Let’s not ruin that,” she murmurs and Daisy strains to hear, heart in her throat. “She doesn’t need me anymore. It’s fine. I’m not her mother, she’s made that clear.”

Daisy stifles the gasp May’s words cause, hand clapping over her mouth as her heartbeat rushes in her ears. She swallows thickly, missing Coulson’s response, and when she looks again, May is in Coulson’s embrace, head tucked under his chin as he held her. They part after a moment and his hand cups her cheek, thumb brushing under her eye, and Daisy’s chest hurts.

“She does need you, Lin. Even if you’re not her mother, you were her SO,” Coulson tells her softly, and May shrugs, a hopeless little sigh escaping her. She’s silent, and Daisy almost turns to go when she catches sight of May’s face, and her eyes are reddened from tears, and suddenly she’s stepping forward, unable to stay quiet any longer.

“Of course I need you,” she says, catching both May and Coulson off-guard; May turns away, wiping discreetly at her eyes, and Coulson’s eyebrow raises at her sudden appearance.

“Daisy-”

“How could you ever think I didn’t need you?” she asks, voice a little tinged with desperation as she steps forward, waiting for May to turn around. “I ran away, and I’m sorry, but I need you more than ever, May. I know I have no right to call you my mother, especially after the things I’ve done, but you’re the only person I can look up to and aspire to be. I…I love you, May.”

May turns to look at her slowly, and there’s no hiding the sheen of tears on her cheeks. “Daisy, you don’t have to try to make me feel better.”

“I’m not,” she interjects, shaking her head and taking another step closer. “I don’t care if you didn’t give birth to me. You’re the closest thing I’ve had to a mom in the last four years, May.”

“Jiaying was your mother,” May starts, and Daisy’s shaking her head before she’s even finished.

“She may have given birth to me 27 years ago, but she was never my mother. Mothers don’t try to kill you, or use you, or manipulate you,” she replies quietly, shrugging her shoulder. “Moms help you and teach you and want you to be the best version of yourself. Something you’ve been doing since I set foot on the bus.”

“I’m not fit to be a mother,” May responds, but there’s less conviction in her voice, and this time, there’s rebuttal from both Daisy and Coulson.

“I’d be pretty honored to be considered your kid,” she tells her softly, before turning her gaze to Coulson over May’s shoulder. “Yours too.”

Coulson gives her a soft smile, his blue eyes warm as he looks at her, and Daisy’s lips curled into a tentative smile.

“I don’t mind being a screwed up little family,” she whispers, biting her lip, and before she knows it May has pulled her into a hug, Coulson wrapping his arms around them both. “This doesn’t feel so screwed up to me.”

That draws a laugh from Coulson and she feels May smile against her shoulder, so she just closes her eyes and hugs them tighter. She was finally _home_.


	77. Huntingbird; T

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> huntingbird + things you said through your teeth

The apartment is trashed, which isn’t a surprise.

The mission had gone longer than she’d thought, and she hadn’t called Hunter, and now he’s drunk on the couch and there’s shit all over the floor that she’ll end up cleaning up. His coping mechanism for their failing marriage was to get shitfaced and watch crappy infomercials until the sun came up, and then complain about his raging hangover.

“The queen returns!” Hunter slurs from his position on the couch. Bobbi grits her teeth, shutting the door behind her and dropping her go bag on the floor. She’s achy and tired- the bullet graze on her bicep hurts like a bitch, and she should probably change the dressing Nat put on it before she left the base. “Slay more dragons? Kiss more evil queens?”

“Would you fucking let that go, Hunter? It was a cover,” she snapped, and Hunter snickered drunkenly, taking another sloppy swig from his beer bottle.

“So what delayed you this time, doll? Clint show up? Or maybe it was Sharon,” he starts, and her hands curl into fists, nails biting into her palms. “Or maybe it was both of them. You’re a lucky bird that way.”

“You know sometimes I wish I’d never met you,” she spits out, the back of her neck hot as she seethes, anger washing her vision red momentarily. Hunter just laughs, drunk and oblivious, cradling his seemingly never-ending bottle to his chest.

“Right back atcha, love,” he says, and she doesn’t even think before she’s scooping her go bag back up, Sharon’s number at her fingertips.

“Don’t be here when I get back,” she bites out, tossing the words over her shoulder before she slams the door shut, all the fight draining from her once she’s walked a few steps, silence enveloping her.

Lonely little mockingbird.


	78. Tripskye; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tripskye + things you said when you thought i was asleep

She rises to consciousness slowly; every part of her aches, and her head feels like a firetruck is sitting on, blaring every single horn and siren it had.

It hurts too much to open her eyes, so she strains to hear her surroundings; through the fog of her brain she recognizes someone speaking, and she breaths, waiting for the voice to register.

“You’ve gotta wake up, Skye,” it’s Trip talking, she’s sure of it- the timber and tone, and the soft but calloused hands clutching her left one are familiar, and the scared part of her is soothed. “C’mon, girl. You can’t leave me, not yet.”

If Skye could get her face muscles to respond she’d smile; the endearment warms the center of her chest, bringing feeling back into her body aside from the screaming pain. _Keep talking, Trip. Please._

“May and Coulson are outside. Had to force them to get some sleep- they refused to leave your side baby girl,” he continues, and another flood of warmth fills her at the thought of the agents she viewed as parents were so concerned about her they had to be forced to leave her side. “Jemma was here too- so many of us need you to wake up, Skye. Come back to us.”

There’s a moment of silence, and then Trip’s fingers clutch hers harder, and he seems to gather his courage before he continues.

“I need you to come back to _me_ ,” he finishes softly, strong but vulnerable, and she knows he’s admitting it because he thinks she’s asleep. There’s been a line neither of them had crossed, though they’d toed it before. But as Skye lies there, knowing she’d barely escaped death in that cavern once again, she thinks that maybe it was time to cross that line.

She forces her eyes open- a pained whimper leaves her at the brightness she encounters when she does; Trip is hovering over her in a second, his hands soft on her face, and she relaxes at his touch.

“You came back for me,” she whispered, squinting up at him. “You came even though I told you not to.”

“I’ll always come for you, Skye. Always,” Trip whispers, the pad of his thumb trailing down her cheek; she gives him a half-smile, eyes slipping half-shut again drowsily. “Get some sleep.”

“Don’t go,” she murmurs, tired, and Trip presses a kiss to her forehead, lips cool and dry.

“I’ll be here when you wake up, I promise Skye. I’m never leaving you.”


	79. Fitzwilljem; G

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things you said at 1 am + fitzwilljem

The first thing they’d done is buy a king-sized bed. Coulson had raised an eyebrow at the large package delivered to the Playground, but the look on his face had said he didn’t even want to know, so they’d just signed the paperwork and gotten the thing set up in the appallingly small bedroom they shared.

It takes up most of the space, but Jemma had picked out soft, dark navy sheets and filled much of the free counter space with low burning candles that smelled like cinnamon and cloves, and Will had requested those little kid glow in the dark stars you stuck to the ceiling, and Fitz had installed speakers in the corners of the room that filtered in the sounds of the sea. The small box of their bedroom become a warm, comfortable paradise, and it was a relief; an escape, almost, for their always-trying days.

A long, exhausting day of hunting Hive leaves them all restless; Jemma’s back was to Will’s chest while she faced Fitz, but none of them could quite get comfortable in the bed. After nearly two hours of tossing and turning, Jemma reached over Fitz to flick on the bedside lamp, flopping onto her back and staring at the stars stuck to the ceiling.

Neither of her boys spoke; Will pressed a kiss to her shoulder while Fitz’s fingers traced patterns into her wrist, and she sighed, eyes slipping shut.

“I see him, when I close my eyes,” she admits, voice barely above a whisper. “That….the thing, that tried to take me, on the planet.”

Will’s grip on her hip tightens at her words, and her fingers twine in his hair soothingly as Fitz reaches across to stroke his fingertips over the other man’s forearm.

“Part of me wishes I could just forget. But mostly I just want that….that thing destroyed,” she murmurs, pulling both of them closer until the three of them were a tangled knot of cuddle-warm bodies. Fitz starts to hum after a moment, low and melodic, and Jemma finds herself starting to drift. Will’s warm, spicy scent fills her head as she buries her nose in his chest, and Fitz’s hand is warm and comforting against her hip, holding her secure against him.

The blackness of that dreamless sleep she’s been wishing for covers her like an old friend, and she welcomes it, wrapped up in her boys as plastic stars kept watch over them.


End file.
